


Johnny Rocker

by YogurtTime



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Multi, Organized Crime, Sex, Trans Female Character, Violence, basically AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtTime/pseuds/YogurtTime
Summary: 2018. After countless rumours, indictments, and arrests, Johnny’s Jimusho has long since become a talent agency full of verytalentedcriminals. As the media erupts with ambiguous news of legendary solo artist Jin Akanishi’s presumed death, all the factions of JE’s crime pool interlace and clash over a deal-breaking theft that has his name written all over it.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who weren't around, I wrote this in the beginning of 2011 for reel_johnny one of the biggest and best challenges to be run in those days. Even more fun because essentially you took a movie of your choosing and wrote a Johnny's fic centred around the film's central plot or you could even just have written something set in that film's universe. For me, I chose Rocknrolla directed by Guy Ritchie, however a lot of the original RocknRolla plot has been altered so that it is more of a Guy Ritchie-tribute than a direct movie rewrite. You may see elements of various other Guy Ritchie films here.
> 
>  
> 
> All monetary amounts in this fic are to be read in yen form, and drug slang is google-able if you so feel the need, but do you really? Do you?

 

cover art by [](http://sekky-chan.livejournal.com/profile)[**sekky_chan**](http://sekky-chan.livejournal.com/)

 

 

 

 

People ask the question, “What’s a Johnny Rocker?”

It’s since the term, “Johnny’s” with any of its positive context died out sometime in 2016.

No noise in those offices now. The foggy, bleeding blare of unpractised voices warbling to recycled pop-- distant from studios below-- has long stilled. There used to be scripts, record deals, and cheques swimming in the mix of paperwork on those desks.

No, what they have sitting on those desks at the head offices now is record of scattered talent. Details reigning in the firm fact that no one was performing together anymore. Left with side acts, money where you could get it; an orgy of little prides, little dignities; a rotting carcass of careers with each dragging day.

Factors?

No more than three years after the old man’s death, the entire Johnny’s talent agency had turned in on itself income-wise. Popularity reduction, advertisement issues, debt, and CEO salaries eating up into production costs. Technical business jargon litters the dusty contracts and records. Unused computers sit there, like big, flat, black beacons of an investment fallen to dirt.

Now there’s one thing a person should know about dream-invested companies, they don’t quit. It’s been four years since the JE heyday, and the old motor still insists on running. So say any current employees you could ask. It was obvious to everyone else, however, that it wasn’t a reduction in sales, it was a question of management. Anyone not trying to scrape a living out of the remainder of the low profits would say the whole entire company’s assets should have been liquidated sometime _before_ their talents started getting arrested.

It wasn’t the numbers that made the Kitagawas drop their shares for fifteen million yen, it was the repeat indictments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So what’s a _Johnny Rocker_ anyway?” Her eyes are like dull moissanite, but the edges of her top, cutting leather and tight ridges into the upper-half of her soft breasts, are all he really cares about now.

Still the question jogs Joker from his visual feast. He glances at his partner-- the burnt tawny-haired boxer-- Romeo, seated across the table, currently nursing a double-shot highball in a tall glass. Romes raises an eyebrow and shrugs-- his default setting.

“You like sex?” Romes asks, pretty lips curling upwards as he leans toward her, arm over the table.

She laughs, hitting him lightly on the wrist. Joker smirks at Romes. He sort of misses how presentation and stage dramatics were his thing. He can almost picture the butterfly pasted under his eye.

Romes’ bruised knuckle fingers begin playing with her own. “What about money?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Money laundering, tax fraud, larceny and rigged betting pools…_

With the recession and the popularity dive, the talents and executives had to get their money from somewhere.

Over thirty arrests in one company and now no one would touch it.

The boys started digging deeper. V6 and up with some exceptions seemed to grab immunity easily and retired with all their savings, shares and investments, but from upon what was once Arashi and down to pups as young as BI Shadow, the black market trade spilled itself, tainting the full eleven yards of these clean-cut social phenomena.

There are no more units; the age of the boy band had taken its tasty sweet ass into perfect obscurity. Johnny’s, as a charming concept, is now dead.

However, for all these sparkly bits of sellable skin now reborn as dollar dogs, there is a new term.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Romes lips are hovering down the skin of her bare shoulder in a remarkably unassuming manner; a silent air-tense worship. “Or glamour and fame?” he murmurs.

“Is that what you’ve got for me?” she asks, breathless, as she watches him trail this single untouching kiss up her collarbone.

Joker unearths a slim and lights up.

He blinks up at her under his silky bronze-coloured fringe. “We were idols. Either of us alone is worth every one these things.”

“Sure,” she says, smiling with an unmasked intention. “I hear your band used to be big-- topping charts for weeks, front page…”

“That’s not the point,” Joker snaps suddenly, and it’s hard keeping the vitriol out of his words. “A Johnny Rocker is way more than a has-been. You can like your money, your sex, your drugs, or even your fame, but a Johnny Rocker…he’s the only one who’s gonna have it all.” A quiet, dark fervour burns his tone and he can feel Romeo glaring at him.

This was supposed to be a chill night. They had managed to stay out of prison for a two year stretch, but memories are all he can taste as he takes his stout and downs it.

He misses KAT-TUN, he misses what was once a gliding ride to fame, and he fucking misses Nakamaru.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The world outside is familiar—all warm cascades of especially rotten memories, choices he’s had to make before this. It’s been a total of six months since his sentence ended, but still, a four year time frame in comparison makes the six months of adjustment pale so deeply.

He’d messed around a great deal after Johnny-san died. Not sure what to do, knowing deep down that he was broke, unable to face his family once he delved into it with Koki, Ueda, and Taguchi. It had been nerve-wracking at first, the deals and trades and blood he never saw, but he started making the same income and then it didn’t matter because he was having fun.

_Too_ much fun because he was damn good at it too.

It wasn’t long before the higher-ups called on him. They wanted someone who could talk to people, chat them up and scare them in ways only verbal imagery could describe.

He’d barely ever spoken a word to Sakurai Sho before.

It wasn’t a year before he was a permanent fixture on the richest Johnny Rocker’s right hand, the top dog of shrewd business intelligence that consumed the one-time rapper, one of few to manage his own after JE’s fourth indictment.

“This is a job where you get to know people; I know you’re very social,” Sakurai-san’s explanation had been like something smooth, a report of statistics and a speal of his own traits mirrored against society’s. “You’ll learn to live better when you’re willing to put in the work.”

Ru, formerly known as Nakamaru, had long since left the frayed remnants of KAT-TUN—Taguchi, Ueda, _Koki_ \-- to make it this far, to achieve the status he held now in this swarm of a rat race. Now--a four year prison sentence sitting behind him like a stack of black bricks-- he is older and he, along with the man he works for, have very significantly _changed_.

The elevator offers a shaking rumble before the rough jerk at the end. Ru tuts, after bracing himself for a startled moment, and adjusts his coat. He catches himself just as the doors rattle open, straightening to make eye contact with Sho-san’s secretary.

She looks up fretfully as he passes her and he pauses as an afterthought. “What’s going on?”

Her eyes dart at the office ahead, mouth pursed. “It’s from Sunday’s newspaper. It’s about Akanishi-san…”

Ru doesn’t wait to hear any further, already shrugging off his coat, he rushes to the office, elbowing the door open in his race to get inside.

“What’s your hurry, Ru?”

He stops dead. In this decorative, politician-esque room, more decoration than full use, Sho-san is sitting at his wide desk, sorting through papers, short black hair in a stringy disarray. He’s certainly the distorted reflection of the man Ru once watched on the Monday Night news, but his deportment remains as he gifts Ru with a crooked smile.

However, given the circumstances, this isn’t right. “I…there’s news about Akanishi, isn’t there?”

The sheepish, warm smile doesn’t fade, but something about it leaves the man’s eyes. He nods over at the usual pile of newsprint cast shamelessly in the corner of one the leather sofas. Without hesitation, Ru pounces on the papers, hands shaking as he spreads the sheets, rifling through for yesterday’s date.

He spots it for the picture. _Jin_ , smile clear and as innocent as when they were younger; round eyes shining, dark hair feathered over his features in curls with passion and moisture—he has his mic in hand as he stares intently, so brazenly out at an unseen crowd. He’s always been beautiful. Still, he is now vibrance, sound and colour thwarted in still-life- black and white- faded photography.

And it’s there. Bold like a blood engraving.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**FORMER-JOHNNY’S SOLO ARTIST, AKANISHI JIN, IS MISSING, PRESUMED DEAD**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t read the rest; he doesn’t have to.

Sho-san, coffee cup in hand, steps up behind him, reading over his shoulder aloud, words pouring out, news anchor style, and every type of cold. “…presumed dead yesterday after falling from his own stage, which was stationed on a cruise ship heading south of Hawaii…coastguard has sent out numerous search parties-”

Ru folds the paper; he can’t listen to anymore. Sho-san sighs and Ru falls back against the couch, sinking into the soft leather; breathing feels like a sudden effort. He doesn’t dare say a word.

A short silence passes between them and Ru tries several times to swallow, curling his fingers into his palms. A steady slow movement.

“Well…” Sho-san says. “we’ve got a hell of a lot on our plate today, don’t we?”

Ru turns-- unable to help himself-- looking up at his boss. The man is sipping thoughtfully on his coffee, gazing out at his glaring upper floor windows. “Sho,” he says quietly, rising from his spot on the sofa. “I wanted to… Jin was-“

Enigmatically smiling eyes turn to rest on his. “He was not one of my smarter investments; I’ll be the first to admit. But this business is full of its drawbacks.”

An investment. Sho-san’s acquired language. A pairing of words set semantically to mean whether anything was economically viable. When the jimusho was going under, artists were scrambling and Jin had lost all his funding. One choice left him hustling independently in the far reaches of American underground clubs, the other was Sho’s outreached hand to all his struggling kouhai.

His choice, but he still chose the latter. However, Jin and Sho were worlds apart in the way they thought and operated. No, not a smart investment for either of them.

Sho-san shrugs his jacket on, peaking in the reflection of a white vase, trying to flatten his sleepless-battle hair. “I wonder how many of them he dragged down with him in that filthy little crack pipe of his.”

Ru feels his gut twist, an ugly feeling, hypocritical outrage. He’s in no place to start arguing Jin’s case. It’s been a long time since he ever was.

“We’re not going to talk about this again, all right, Ru?” Sho states, gravelly tone still silken with good humour.

A significant pause slides between them as Ru slips his arms back into his coat, and he glances at Sho a bit sharply, surprise and caution, interchangeable waves, he feels them crossing on his own features. Sho studies him and an approximation of a grim smile pulls at the corners of his round, cherubic mouth. He walks over, straightens the lapels on Ru’s coat, clearing his throat in a frank, curtly manner.

“You’re pretty quiet today, Ru. That prison sentence must’ve done something awful to your sensibilities.”

Ru thinks he means to breathe normally, but he winds up expelling a sifted shock of air. There is something in him still burning, but it’s deep and somewhere he isn’t sure he knows how to reach anymore. “I’m fine. It’s a just a bit early for me.”

Sho-san nods, turning away. “Well, just try to stay with me. There’s a few familiar faces we’re going to have to deal with today that’ll need you at your best.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twelve hundred square feet of cemented floor is glazed with sweat, skid marks and dirt. It’s a teaming mess of men hollering out strangled yells, papers, wrappers and bags crushed underfoot, and the smoke, toxic for anyone not sucking all of it in daily. Heavy grunts and the moist explosive sound of knuckles against hard skin is punctuated by the cries and smiting roars of the pushing crowd.

“TURN HIM INTO A FUCKING VEGETABLE, UEPI!”

Junno, more popularly known as Long Johnny, has his feet hooked into the bottom-most part of the upper floor railing, as he leans over, pumping his fist. The messy crowd of equally loud betters have nothing on his sheer height and brazenly shirtless musculature. It doesn’t seem to stop him from bending the metal with his weight as he yells other unintelligible things at the crowd below. He should be worried about the cost for repair…

_One day we’ll fix this place up...make it our own_

To Joker watching this from the backroom one-way window, it’s really all the same.

Especially since he knows Romes will last six rounds pawing and playing about at their knuckle-heavy opponent before he commits to his right-hook. Four rounds in and Joker can barely make out their boxer’s sweaty back in the dirty throng of betters, but he can hear from the shouts outside his door that the bets are going to be high rolling.

It isn’t quite a fixed fight if you know your fighter’s skilled enough to win them all, but it does get a bit sketchy when you spend weeks beforehand convincing everyone else that he isn’t.

“HEADBUTT HIM! HE’S WIDE-OPEN THERE! JUST KICK HIM IN THE SIDE!”

Long’s face is red from screaming. They’ve been doing this for ages and Junno still hasn’t grasped the basic rules of boxing. Joker pulls up a cigarette, trying not to laugh.

“Four years and he’s _still_ way too loud.”

Joker whirls around at the voice. The dim swinging lamp overhead spotlights over a pencil skirt suit, curves over angular, but short thighs-- crossed provocatively— perched on a table, long Virginia slim crooked between thin, delicate knuckles; Bordeaux lacquered nails tapping on wood. “Sorry to surprise you.”

Joker grabs his chest in a mock representation of surprise.

The lamp swings just a little, still caught in a nameless momentum and glares yellow light on a familiarly laughing smile.

“Now how’d you get in here?” he asks. “Pretty bookkeeper like you trying to mingle with the common folk… like an idol on variety.”

Thin, but puckered and glossed lips turn downward; gorgeously round frame leans back on the table, kicking one stiletto-heeled foot up engagingly. “I can get in anywhere; you know this… So it’s been awhile, Koki.” Voice is higher, but still drenched in scotch and smoke. Koki remembers the stage, hearing that voice in front of him crooning, groaning out lusty notes.

Joker shifts his unlit cigarette over to the other corner of his mouth, tongue dragging lazily. “I’d say five months.”

“I…I missed you...”

The words sit between them, pulling down the curtain of the casual and Joker can’t even smile anymore.

“Kame-chan…”

It’s like a vivid taste of two years ago when Kame had called him up, voice steady like a wound up tape, a monotone recording of a long monologue. Joker had listened to his story, the same shattered world as his after the band split but all sorts of different for Kame in particular. Court cases; interrogations; he wasn’t a liar; he knew it’d be right to tell, but someone would kill him for it, someone would put a bullet down his throat for talking. He said it, not like anyone younger; not the spoiled KAT-TUN baby he could be sometimes, not even tightly wound. Just Kame-chan as he spoke in a steely, valiant tone. “ _I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live like this anymore…_ ”

It’s that, the pang in him, the ugly deep part that wants everything back, rips him something new and he doesn’t want to talk about KAT-TUN ever again.

The corners of her mouth tug down involuntarily when she spots his expression. “I’m sorry; let’s not… you don’t have to call me that…you know that’s not who I am anymore. Just… Kazu’s fine.”

Joker crosses the room to her. He doesn’t hesitate or mirror any of her sudden shyness; he rests his palms on her thighs. “Whoever you say you are; it’s the same inside and out to me… y-you were cute then, and you’re cute now.” He ends flatly as he meets her eyes.

Kazu leans back, looking at him under a fringe of false black eyelash. “You’re so nice, Koki; you’ve always been nice…”

Joker coughs, trying not to glare, frustrated at his own sudden embarrassment. “I know you’re not here to tell me how nice I’ve been.”

Legs much more feminine than he can remember from even just five months ago slide down, running expensive fabric down his fingers as Kazu slips down from her perch. Her narrow hips, somehow much fuller, are something he’ll never get used to when they’re alone like this, but Kazu seems to have made it a part of herself, among the other assets she sports after her transitioning. _Sacrifice for the sake of survival_ , Kame had called it at the time, and yet -- looking at the way his former band mate now moves, the way the still short hair curled and ironed carefully like the old days somehow seems silkier if not prettier-- Koki feels like he has never seen anyone look more comfortable in their own skin.

At least none of what happens when they meet can be misconstrued as awkward.

She folds her arms, now a silhouette in the glaring fluorescence coming from outside the window. She looks out passively at the large room on the other side, smile grim. “What are you guys up to anyway? I know you’re trying to keep clean…”

Joker joins her by the window, watching as the crowd shifts, tight around the fight going on in the middle. There’s a buzz of roars sinking in through the thick glass, and Joker turns his back to it, facing Kazu. “We have a few things in mind for this building, but at the moment Taguchi’s facing a five years for drug theft. We’re trying to ask around for anyone with contacts.”

Kazu chews her lower lip. “That’ll cost you, won’t it?” She says it in a cold murmur, eyes somewhere far off.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work something out…”

She doesn’t answer.

Koki pauses. “Look…don’t think I’m not glad to see you ‘cause I am, but why’d you come?”

Pensive brown eyes fix on his; there is a deep drive in her gaze still. If it weren’t in the way she still makes the same gestures, it is this deep, brooding look in her eyes that reminds Joker never to forget whom he’s speaking to. “I’ll be doing some work with Yamapi again in a few days,” she mutters.

All other thoughts rush from him. “He’s back in Japan?”

Kazu shrugs, looking somewhere beyond him. “Something’s happened. I don’t know. Uchi lost his head and told Pi I was available to keep up with his bookkeeping again. If he’s planning to tour his music back out here, he’s going to need a hefty sum and a venue, but he’s not going to get that without permission.” A humourless laugh. “Permission that’ll cost him money…money he doesn’t want showing up in the books when tax season comes along.”

“Something you can do,” Joker replies uncertainly, tucking his unlit cigarette behind his ear.

Kazu begins to pace, manicured fingers clutched tight at her own arms as her heels click. “I keep getting this bad feeling, like something’s happened to bring him back here, something I don’t think I know how to deal with. I don’t want to be scared of whatever it is, but I am,” she sighs, her whole frame tensing, shoulders curving in with tension. It doesn’t strike Joker as at all odd that he can picture his fingers smoothing out those lines of tension. Even before her transition, before she appeared before him one evening, all new angles and roundness, her distress was something he took personally.

Without giving room for hesitation, he reaches out, clutching a soft arm just to get her to slide an icy, intense look in his direction before he kisses her.

He knows it’s been ages for them both, but he still goes slow, wandering hands over new curves and special bone structure against hips. He turns them so she’s pressed against the window, and lifts her to perch on the narrow sill, thighs dragging up against his own. It isn’t weird anymore; he’s done this a number of times, but each time is different. This thing like wariness still seems to covet her attention and even he feels distracted, trying to make her settle. It remains even with Kazu’s pliant, but strong limbs slipping against his, still imagining the worst of his reactions, as if he’d pass judgement and Joker tries to be as reassuring and familiar as he can be; he tries to be Koki again.

A slice of light bursting into the room followed by the rocketing din of shouts once muffled freeze Koki’s hand halfway up Kazu’s skirt.

“Joker…?” comes Junno’s careful tone.

He pulls away from Kazu a bit too quickly and she drops from her perch, no longer supported by his arms. Expelling a still heated breath, he turns to face the glaring light casting Junno’s shadow in a long black blob across the grey floor.

“Dammit, Long!” he growls, turning back to help Kazu up, but finds she’s already straightened. She eyes Junno with some trepidation.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had…” Long starts, and his voice sounds odd, attributed to the lingering tension in the room. For some inexplicable reason, he steps further into the room haltingly, squinting to see the figure behind Joker.

“I’m gonna go,” Kazu mutters, pressing her skirt down with skittish hands. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.” She grabs her purse and stalks out, averting her face as she passes Long, but Long doesn’t look at her; he’s watching Joker steadily until the moment the door clicks shut behind her.

“You said you’d come in here to get the paperwork,” Long states, leaving the accusation hanging and that does nothing but serve to annoy him.

“I did and it’s there on the table,” he replies firmly.

“You could’ve said…”

Joker pulls his cig from behind his ear, popping it in his mouth to light. “What’s that in your hand?” He offers a languid nod at the brown manila envelope Junno’s clutching.

Half-hearted smile. “It’s…just something from this administrative scrivener for my trial. The…informer seems to be able to recall more about the theft than I can remember.”

At these words Joker softens and Long stares at him silently, features darkening as he considers it.

Joker walks over and gives him a pulled punch in the shoulder, smiling grimly. “Right, so what brought you back here?”

Long’s default grin leaps back up like something crazy natural, and Joker purses his lips. “It’s Sho-san,” he says, bursting at the seams with sunrise. “He wants to meet and—I ran down here as soon as I was sure, but…I heard Ru speaking in the background. He’s out of jail, Koki!”

The crowd outside lets out a particularly manic roar. Romes has followed through on that deadly right hook and the crowd’s losses make the building swell with a sudden agony. Joker would call it a volley of ache.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kazu remembers reading the headline about the idol known as Kamenashi Kazuya absconding to Europe with a girl who had a name that was difficult to pronounce. She remembers how she’d laughed, thinking how much easier an option that would’ve been, how quickly everyone believed it, and how the nation would know Kamenashi Kazuya for unknown crimes, for helping the scum that had consumed Johnny’s Jimusho, never remembered for salvaging, and never _ever_ for the sacrifice that changed him forever.

Being one of JE’s most informed talents, he’d had a lot of info to dish out. Kamenashi Kazuya, at the time, had testified in a supreme court, denounced five executives, pointed out the names of several employees involved in yakuza operations, and implicated his manager; all for the price of being called a good citizen. Then came the death scares, threats, all mid-trial and he was huddled away like a precious commodity

Kazu has made the most of the cards she’s been dealt. An accomplished bookkeeper with little training and school married to the now government-sponsored litigator Uchi Hiroki. So while _Kamenashi Kazuya_ was living a romantic, escapist life with some brunette beauty by the seas of Toulouse, Uchi Kazuri was adjusting to the way people looked at her when she wore heels and shorter skirts, in some way becoming a much sought after bookkeeper and unofficial accountant in the Shinjuku ward. The justice system had basically handed them this stilted existence, expecting that they’d just disappear into normality. So she’d steal away occasionally to look at her old life, sleep with old friends…mostly Koki. She doesn’t like to think how much she had begun to crave those secret seconds stolen with Koki. She doesn’t like to think how difficult it’d be to explain that it’s about the thrill, living a life different than the one prescribed. This strangely surreal, but quiet existence was choking her really.

It’s a bit hard to swallow that her life had become the worst type of boring.

A black Rolls Royce wheels to a stop in front of her. The chauffeur hops around to open the door for her while Uchi, sitting on the other side, decked up in an expensive Armani, laughs as she slides in. He reaches over to press out the obvious crease in her skirt.

She glances at him shiftily.

He just smiles. “Infidelity? Really, Kazu-chan?”

Kazu rolls her eyes, opening her pocket mirror to finger-comb her hair back to normal. Her lipstick is smeared. Uchi chortles again at her sudden mortification.

“I’m still angry with you over this Yamapi thing,” she informs him after the car begins to move. “Things just start to get relatively sane, and then you go and pull something like this.”

Uchi’s lower lip slips out in a decidedly exaggerative pout. “I thought you’d appreciate a bit of change. I recommended you to him because all those old tycoons out here just love your efficiency.” His eyes crinkle with amusement as he leans back in his seat to survey her. “All that natural charisma you had as an idol is still alarmingly persuasive. And there’s something rakish and boy-like in your tone that just _excites_ those sad, old men. It’s an aura about you that gives them that certain _special happiness_ ….”

He chortles for a little while at his own joke. Kazu leans back in her seat, gazing out the window.

“So come on,” Uchi says, coaxingly, his lips pursed in amusement. “Give your Hiroki a smile.”

She gives him a half-hearted glance, mouth still curved downward. “I don’t _feel_ like smiling.” Her eyebrows crease in the middle, the closest she’s gotten to pouting in years. “I’m a thirty-three year old transsexual married to a homosexual lawyer. Do you not see the irony in that?”

Uchi snorts, shoulders shaking. He looks at her with unmasked affection. “The irony isn’t lost on me, no. If only you were interested in women, we’d be a very _modern_ couple now, wouldn’t we?”

Kazu sighs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sakurai Sho-san, sweater-vest sleeves rolled up; tie loosened, walks along the metal pillar bases lined underneath the upper floor. He steps past each one as if to count them. The wide empty room they stand in is still littered with garbage, betting tickets, and cigarette stubs, but as Joker, Romes and Long watch Sho’s hands pat along beaten sturdy iron beams, they know he sees money in every bolt.

They’d be riveted, all three of them, on the sight of the round-shouldered man with his cherubic face glossing over their place with a critical eye, but Ru, absent five years now since he was shuttled off to work for Sho-san, stands nearby. He’s looks so different, no longer just a beanpole frame draped in argyle. Now, even under the black cashmere, the strength he’s acquired is visible, and the look in his eyes, red-rimmed and wide… Joker tries not to, but he keeps glancing at him. He wants to ask him if leaving them was worth it, wants to ask if his promise to come back when he’d fixed things was just something to say when they all sat outside their newly bought building, drunk off their asses, looking at the filthy city…he wants to ask if he’s all right.

Ru hasn’t said a word to any of them, and his stern expression, hands folded in front of him, eyes trained on Sho-san, gives off an aura that he has no intention of doing so. Even Long knows better than to say a word, though Joker can feel him twitching to do something, anything to get Ru to look at them. Ru had been theirs in almost every sense. Joker glances at Romes whose eyes are trained deliberately on the ground, blazing grey with a quieter outrage and it burns him more than he can even begin to say.

“So a five year sentence for impersonation of a medical professional and drug theft, huh?” Sho-san finally says, arms folded.

Junno nods, staring at the floor, lips pursed.

“Doesn’t seem to suit you just from looking.” And Sho-san observes Long, a small smile rising as he laughs just a little, his shoulders jump with that single chuckle. “That’s quite a stretch of time, isn’t it? Five years…that’s one-sixteenth of your life locked behind bars.”

Long expels a tiny breath, a quick, lancing fear rattling him. Joker hears it.

“Now I’ve personally never been to jail myself. But I know for a fact that it’s very uncomfortable, just a real nightmare of the grittiest of politics. It’s like being out here, but you can’t pick your battles. Someone wants something from you, they’re going to come and take it. Big, tall, and strong is all that’s gonna save you in there…isn’t that right, Ru?”

Ru’s gaze slides for the slightest moment toward them, but his focus remains distant and unseeing before he turns back to look somewhere even more faraway. “Yeah.” He might as well not even be in the room.

“Four years for Ru, and on what grounds… illegal firearm possession? Doesn’t seem fair…” Sho-san indulges in a few more chuckles as he looks up at the rafters, his eyes squinting. “KAT-TUN…you were a noisy, _messy_ bunch…” He says this slowly, turning away to peek into their backroom. “The type of troublemakers that don’t accomplish a thing because of the chaos infecting your structure.”

Joker automatically feels a brush of hard fingers on his elbow seconds before he bristles, and it surprises him as he looks up at a straight-faced Long, who continues blinking steadily at Sho-san.

Sho-san straightens, now turning to look at them. “But you see, that’s what made you likeable. You weren’t supposed to get a thing done, yet you did. The underdog, making it against all odds. That’s you three leftover, isn’t it?” His smile is personable and he glances at Ru. “And maybe you over there too, Ru. The severed limb that still aches….”

Ru remains impassive and Sho-san loses interest quickly. “Anyway, what I’m basically saying is though you’re a crass bunch with your petty crimes and trade, and goodness knows you probably deserve to do the time, Taguchi-kun…” He claps his hands together a bit candidly, still all smiles. “I’ll talk to my contacts, see whether we can get them to misplace some information.”

Joker doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until he feels his knees go weak with relief.

“Of course it’ll cost you, you know that…”

Romes finally speaks, low tone laced with resolve. “We can do whatever work you want us to do. We’ve all three agreed that we’ll do what it takes. We _need_ Long right now, and five years will set us back…”

Long swallows and Joker knows Romes is going to be spoiled insane with hugs and embarrassing declamations of affection this evening.

Sho-san steps across the room to Ru, holding his hand out for his coat which Ru proffers, holding it up as the older man slips in. “I don’t need employees, to be quite honest. Especially if it’s a matter of making my contacts _comfortable_ ; if you take my meaning.” He shrugs the coat on, reaching into his sleeves to pull his cuffs down neatly. “The DA has obviously seen your information and pertinent details involving the case. Paying for his silence alone will put me out a million yen, and we have three different people to talk to.”

“We don’t exactly have the money, Sho-san…” Joker begins hesitantly. “We were hoping to be able to pay you off in a year at the very least if we can’t work for you, but we had to ask you now since Long’s trial’s in a few days and they’ve got an informer, so…

Sho-san fixes his gaze on them, politely incredulous. “You’re telling me you have nothing? You literally expected me to be able to help you relying entirely on a debt’s capital?”

Romes, Long, and Joker exchange glances.

“I-“ Romes begins, but he’s cut off as Long drops to the floor, his fists curl in next to him as he bows his head. There’s a silent moment as he splays, pressing himself to the floor.

“I’m begging you, Sho-san!” Long cries, forehead touching the concrete.

Sho stares at Long, helpless surprise written all over his face. “Now, Taguchi-kun, there isn’t a need for you to go that far. Understand that I _want_ to help you, but you three make it very difficult when the economy just doesn’t allow for free favours.”

Joker doesn’t know whether to force Long to get up or not. There’s something about the way Sho-san is looking down at Long that makes him uneasy.

“But you know, boys,” Sho-san continues, looking away, casting a glance on the unmoving Ru. “I’d bet everything in my pocket that you put a lot of funds into the building we’re standing in currently, didn’t you?”

Romes’ gaze slides over to Joker and there’s a heavy second of consideration, unspoken. Long sits up slowly. Joker can’t see his face, but there’s a line of tension going down his back.  
There’s a questioning in Romes’ eyes at Joker, needing confirmation of what is clear that they must do. He nods, just a little, enough for Romes to see. They’d talked about this endlessly and as much as their dream could be set back by years, at the very least, they can’t lose another one of theirs.

Never again.

“The building’s yours, Sho-san.” Romes mutters resolutely. “We have the deed in the backroom…”

“ _No._ ”

All eyes in the room turn to Long, now pulling himself up, boots sliding against the dusty stone. “No,” he says again, vehemence leaking into his every tone and movement as he stands.

Sho-san watches this with a carefully neutral face. “Taguchi-kun? I’m willing to take that offer. With just an extra two hundred thousand yen, your entire conviction would disappear.”

Long stands straight and Romes reaches for his arm, but he shrugs out of the way. “If I had the money, I’d pay for your help myself, do all the dirty work I need to, but I’m lucky to have these two who are sacrificing way too much because I was careless enough to be loose about my actions those days. I can’t do a thing though, but this building was bought with a dream and I’ve never had a use besides standing here and working with them toward that dream, so…this building can’t be yours, Sho-san. I’m sorry.”

Of all the idiotic…

“Shut up, Long!” Joker hisses. “It’s all right with us, Sho-san. You can take the building and we’ll front you the two hundred thousand after today’s payoffs come in.”

Long turns, and the whites of his eyes are nearly red as he shoots a near deathly glare at Joker. “I said _no_. I’ll go; I’ll finish my sentence, but you’re _not_ handing over this building. Let me come back in five years, maybe sooner for good behaviour…but you keep the deed.”

“Taguchi!” Romes snaps exasperatedly. “Think of those five years! You won’t make it.”

Long turns and does something he has never dared to do even back during his more volatile days when they were juniors. He makes a swipe with his fist. Obviously Romes dodges it and throws Long’s momentum off, but the shock on his face is visible as he steps away, watching Long right himself.

“I’ll fight you or anyone in this room…” Long says, eyes flickering toward Joker all the more dangerously. “…the deed stays.”

Joker and Romes stare at him helplessly. Joker is torn in a moment of clarity as he looks at this inexplicably puzzling dork who chooses then to blink back tears. It’s stupid in the way that it’s touching, and he understands it all the more.

“You idiot,” Joker murmurs finally.

Romes shakes his head disbelievingly, dark crown of hair covering his eyes.

It’s laughter the way that it imitates the sound, but the feeling is like an onset of frost. Sho-san slips his hands into his long expensive trenchcoat pockets and laughs, chuckles shuddering out of him, boyish and deep. “You three…”

Joker meets Ru’s eyes and a sickening moment of abrupt relief crosses Ru’s features and he’s the same man Joker remembers for that brief second. It startles him before Ru looks away once more to wait for Sho.

“Oh well, your call in the end,” Sho-san continues amiably, round shoulders lifting in a single shrug. “Three million for my contacts and two hundred thousand for my time. Offer will still stand if you change your minds. You _are_ still my kouhai in the end.”

“We _won’t_ be taking it, but thank you,” Long mutters and it’s a little bit colder than necessary and Joker glances at Sho-san warily.

Sho-san has indeed paused and blinks for a quiet moment at Long, lips straightening into a firm pursed line. “You ought to watch yourself, Taguchi-kun. I know you get easily passionate, but you needn’t forget whom you’re speaking to.”

Romes closes his hand on Long’s shoulder dragging him back. He bows quickly in apology and Joker does the same.

Sho-san nods, smile reappearing. “Let’s go then, shall we? Ru?”

Ru’s back is straight, as if he’s bracing himself against the very tension in the room, but he nods as well and turns to follow as Sho turns for the metal exit doors.

Long turns and looks at the both of them a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to get like that,” he begins.

Joker opens his mouth to tell him how dumb he is, but he spots Romes’ steady gaze fixed on Sho-san and Ru’s retreating backs in the open doors. “Wait…” he breathes, watching Ru turn the corner. “ _Wait!_ ” he yells suddenly and his round eyes narrow just before he takes off at a run. “Yucchi!” he hollers.

“Romeo!” Joker calls, not sure what to say to stop him, not sure he wants him to stop.

Ru backtracks and turns, wary at the footsteps rocketing from behind him. Joker watches from his short distance away as Ru finally looks at Romeo and it’s such a different image, the two of them standing opposite each other. Ru’s jaw is tighter and his once constantly emotionally vivid narrow eyes are devoid with something deep black and Romes, still lightweight, bronze-haired, and impossibly pretty, is dwarfed by him, but he stands tall, arms folded and firm.

“You’re a serious ass hole, coming back and acting like you haven’t,” Romes says to him and Ru’s shoulders converge. “We’re holding together for you and you’re still one of us and I don’t care what you think or what you’ve been through. We’re in the same boat, so get over yourself.”

Ru looks at Joker, a quick, sharp, stilted glance, and what Joker had been a hundred percent was pride and stiffness in that glare, is actually a frayed curtain of agony. He’s known Ru long enough.

“What’s happened to you?” Joker and Romes say nearly simultaneously.

There’s a punctuated honking coming from a car outside. Ru glances behind him anxiously, but he turns again to them. “I’m so sorry…” he says and his voice is alien, but still shockingly soft and careful like the old Nakamaru. “It’s not me. It’s Ji…it’s Akanishi.” His lips visibly tremble. “He’s …”

The car horn honks again and Romes seizes Ru’s wrists in a demandingly settling gesture. “Come to the old place; everyone’ll be there; we can talk then! Come tonight, OK?”

The horn’s blast is deafening and angry and Ru nods. He casts one more heavy look at Joker and Long before turning away, slipping out the exit soundlessly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The breeze flying in from around the back of the hotel is strangely cold even in the summer. On the balcony where Kazu stands, it feels like ice.

It’s possible that she was shaking before she stepped out. She doesn’t realise until she’s lit her cigarette that this is her second one in a row. Her mind straying to places near unreachable in easier moments. They’d informed her the moment she came in. Ryo had the newsprint laid out and Koyama had a packet of tissues handy. She didn’t cry, though; just told them to call her when Yamapi came from his other appointment. So now, standing out here, something inside feels like a twisted, burning metal.

Jin Akanishi is dead.

Koyama peeks his head around the door. “He’ll be ready to meet you in a moment.”

She doesn’t answer, but manages a faint nod. She knows both Ryo and Koyama are in there watching her through the blinds. All her worries seemed to have stemmed from this moment coming and she doesn’t want to structure it solidly in her mind for fear that it’d break her, snap whatever foundation she has beneath her in this icy silence.

However still it comes back to her. _Jin_.

“Sakurai Sho-san has a lot of connections in this town, doesn’t he?”

She jumps at the voice behind her and her cigarette falls, rolling over the edge of the balustrade. “Yamapi…”

“I’m sorry.” He stands near her, leaning himself against the railing, peeking down at her, deep, round eyes studying. “I called for you because I want to make sure you’re all right with my dealing with Sakurai Sho.”

Kazu clears her throat, assembling some control over her expression. Steadiness. “What do you mean?”

“Jin became Sakurai-san’s investment just six years ago after you went underground. After the last indictment and once the sponsorships, partners, and record companies distanced our associations, Jin didn’t have the money to pursue his career any further.” Yamapi’s eyes flood with a harsh, melted heat, the line of his mouth deepening. “I didn’t know. I… was still touring that year and…then it was too late. Sakurai-san sponsored Jin, but like any of his projects, he had begun to take things in return. Jin’s freedom, creativity, the people he knew and associated with. Like some kind of loan shark, he brought Jin’s career to the state that it was in before he…”

It’s almost unforgivably cold where they stand, and Kazu closes her arms around herself. “I thought… I thought Jin was doing all right,” she begins softly. And Kazu knows that Sakurai Sho has always been a good man. His reputation, his employees, his stocks, the neo-JE empire he sits on complacently… are all the Jimusho is standing upon at the moment. There are individual entertainers and the money is scarce, but he is still bringing it into the poorest reaches of the industry’s debt. No one cares to question his methods because he produces results.

“Drugs…I’m learning only now that someone out there pulled him into it, but I don’t care. There’s got to have been a thousand different junkies with the tools and tricks to drag him in when he was that desperate. I couldn’t do anything before and I can’t do anything now…”

It hurts to swallow.

“OK,” she returns calmly and Yamapi’s looking at her with that studying gaze once more. She reaches out, a single pat, trying to be soothing because that’s what a person is supposed to be. She feels her own acquired iciness slide like a glacier over his own hard exterior. She feels human in the way that’s comfortable now, at ease with herself, but she feels like another species, trying to invest time and effort to feeling the same way as this tall, husky figure standing nearly over her.

Yamapi’s eyes are glazed, soaked. “I just want reverse everything.” His gaze flickers back to her, but doesn’t quite meet. “Even you can’t be my Shuuji anymore.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ueda’s rough words had been as nostalgic as any reminder of earlier, livelier days and Ru feels pretty good about moving on. As nervous as he is about going to meet them again tonight, no holds barred, straight talk, he’s relieved. Guilt, was it? Distance, maybe. He didn’t know what had happened besides the fact that he wasn’t working with them anymore, but some selfish part of him just wants them to see him the same way despite the fact that he doesn’t feel quite like their Yuichi. And it surprises-no, _pleases_ him that they still insist that he is still that nice man.

“Well, you’ve brightened up, haven’t you?” Sho-san remarks, brows crushed together. “I remember you used to be a morning person, but it took you four hours into our day for that famous Ru smile to make an appearance.”

Ru clears his throat. They’re just outside the hotel in Omotesando where Sakurai is to have his important meeting with the recently returned Yamashita Tomohisa. “Have never felt better, Sho-san,” he replies temperately.

Sho smiles a little, patting his back as they ascend the stairs to the entrance.

It’s Koyama that greets them at the door all smiles for both of them like he’s met long-lost family as he shows them into the meeting suite. Ryo is perched on the balcony outside, and he shoots them a glance as they walk past his window to Yamashita already seated in one of the armchairs ahead.

There’s definitely an oddness to it. Ru is used to seeing Sho stride confidently into rooms, meetings, but here he is somehow out of his element. Koyama crowds about them, still smiling, but it feels like a sedation effect as it superimposes Ryo’s sharp stare from outside, his hand deliberately slipping into his coat, indicating that he’s armed. He is the threat and Ru’s been trained for this. He straightens, adjusting his own suit jacket, letting it flash the handle of his glock tucked into his belt. All this occurs as they pass and Koyama, close enough to have seen all this, is looking at him suddenly like he’s a stranger.

“You’ll have to excuse our hastiness,” Yamashita remarks, frowning at Ryo who just grins, hopping down from his perch. “We’re not accustomed to being among friends.”

“Quite all right,” Sho returns, exchanging a glance with Ru.

“I should tell you before we begin that I respect you very much as my senpai, Sakurai-san,” Yamashita begins as soon as they’re seated. “I’ve heard a lot about all the things you’ve accomplished for the company and I want to say that I am grateful.”

Sho looks quite pleased. “It’s the least we can do. This agency is our origin, the way from which we’ve acquired what we have today.”

“As expected.” Yamapi replies firmly. “However, having said that, I think we can both see eye to eye from here on in. I only require your help and I will pay you the amounts you request.”

Sho shifts forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Yamapi smiles, and it could be warm but that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I…don’t expect you to.”

Ru leans forward, but Sho shakes his head subtly. “Is that so?” he returns and his tone is light.

“Leaving that aside, I know we’re very much alike. We like to get things done, so…for permissions, how much is it going to cost me?”

Sho takes some time to consider. “Five…hundred million,” he replies frankly.

Yamapi glances at Koyama and nods. Koyama leaves the room.

“That’ll be fine. I’ll call for the funds to be delivered to you, but I want things done promptly. I am not interested in dithering around here in Japan, particularly with jimusho politics.”

The tension in the room grows palpable as Yamapi folds his legs, leaning comfortably in his chair to survey them unsmilingly. Ru can see the beads of sweat forming on Sho’s forehead.

The door behind them opens as Koyama comes in, holding a largish round velvet case by a large cherry wood handle. He brings it around and sets it on the table.

Yamapi looks at the box with a stark look of sharp intent. It sets Ru on edge and there’s no guessing what it does to Sho. “When I was leaving Japan to break into the Asian music industry, I met with a very close friend of mine,” Yamapi begins, eyes not leaving the box. “He was still doing his own thing and there was no need for him to accompany me, so we were parting ways with no knowledge of when we’d see each other again.”

Sho coughs a bit restlessly, but he appears to listen.

“Knowing this, he gave me a gift and ever since I’ve carried it with me. It was his lucky charm, you see, and it’s brought me an insurmountable amount of luck. Things have gone well for me; no hiccoughs. I want to lend this gift to you…” Yamapi’s dark, steady gaze fixes on Sho. “…just to ensure everything goes smoothly for you.”

Koyama lifts the handle and reaches inside, his warm brown eyes glaze a little as he raises the gift. Ru must’ve made some sound because both Koyama and Yamapi glance at him. In Koyama’s hand is a fedora, black, urban calligraphy patterned across its side. Ru would recognise that hat anywhere and he does right then. And it’s sudden, but the wave of Yamapi’s quiet distaste for Sho becomes obvious.

“What is the meaning of this, Yamashita-kun?” Sho asks after the ugly pause.

“Not once,” Yamapi replies coldly. “Not once since you’ve walked in have you at all mentioned Jin Akanishi. I’m sure your mourning is silent since you practically adopted him as an economic venture. Your financial child, isn’t that what you called him on the news?”

Sho stands and Ru is frozen.

“That hat is yours until our deal is complete. I will send you the money; you forward my permissions and send the fedora back, and you and I will have no reason to speak again.” Yamapi continues to survey Sho, raising his head only a little from where he sits, cool and calm.

Koyama looks at Ru steadily as he holds out the box. There isn’t blame there, but understanding. Ru still feels it though as he accepts the box and Sho turns on his heel to leave, ears burning red.

“Ryo, call the accountant.”

Ru follows Sho because it is really all he can do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not until they reach the curb where Chinen-kun pulls up that Sho starts off, his fists are shaking as he seizes the car door handle and slides in.

“As if he has the slightest idea of what happened to that little pill! I’ve half a mind to just drop the deal; he can come up with his own faculties to try to worm his way back into entertainment out here!”

Ru settles in his seat, thinking deeply of Yamapi’s words as he holds the hatbox on his lap. He’d had no clue that Jin had given his favourite fedora away. Those days had been chaotic and there were a lot of things he’d failed to notice about Jin.

“Kouhai nowadays seem to think if they get a bit of money in their pocket, they can come in and be the boss! Whatever it is, he thinks he’s hit the big time. Well, five hundred mill should do him a good dent in that egotistic bank account…” He’s seething and Ru doesn’t even know what to say.

“I think…” he mutters, frowning. “I think we just have to be careful with him. Get the deal done, send this back to him; basically just do as he says.”

Sho casts a sharp look at him and it’s the first time since Ru’s started working with him that Sho looks positively disgusted with him. “Just do as he says, huh? He’s completely forgotten who put him on the map! I own the shares now, and he could be as good as done should I so choose.”

Ru knows Sho can’t do that. Yamapi is another source of debt alleviate coming into the jimusho’s pockets. “Times are changing, Sho-kun…” he replies finally, hoping to bring a little bit of clarity to the transformation coming in around them. Something that Sho, up until now, has refused to face. The very thing that makes his friends suffer as he sits in this car. “A whole lot of the Johnny’s you knew just aren’t respecters of the old school.”

Sho’s eyes have grown dark as his fists clench, jaw hardening. “Don’t be an idiot. There’s no school like the old school, and I’m the fucking headmaster! That’s why he has to come to me first! Got that?”

Ru looks away, nodding. He feels like he knows what’s coming, but as his fingers curl around the velvet that encases the last bit of Jin he can preserve, he knows he can’t put a name to it.

 

 

 


	2. One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

cover art by [sekky_chan](https://www.livejournal.com/editjournal.bml?journal=glitterigloo&itemid=3561#)

 

 

  
Former Johnny’s are rarely all seen together. Jimusho-wide events have long since ended, but the one place where they all gather on occasion is the one place where no one will ever see. That is the private underground bar affectionately named  _Shokura_.  
  
With a baseball game on the wide-screen near the fireplace, the enclosed curtain booths and scattered tables are packed with various one-time Johnny’s, what’s mostly left of the J &A era and a few HeySays that aren’t in Sho-san’s employ. The noise of chatter and music is deafening, but Joker finds it a relief next to the silence the three of them can’t seem to break. Romes deals a pack of cards out, not even able to say the words to ask them what they want to play, Long sits-- hands under the table and chin resting on it—staring at the ice in his glass. Joker just smokes cigarillos watching the smoke waft upward in miniature swirls.

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” Long mutters at the table.  
  
“Shut  _up_  or I swear to god I’ll punch you in the coccyx,” Romes replies lightly, not looking up from his shuffling.  
  
Long seems to find this incredibly funny and he sits for a moment giggling at the table.  
  
Joker rolls his eyes, but is jolted when a stubby set of knuckles rap suddenly on their booth.  
  
“Got a light, Joker?”  
  
They all lift their eyes to the man still known as Nino, all slouched in an old Diesel jacket that’s way too big for him, smile rigid and twitching. Practically an attachment, Ohno stands a bit behind him, silent and sleepy-looking as just a phasing out presence. Both are bleary-eyed and clearly tanked on their usual junk. Nino appears to be swaying particularly close to them, his nervous, jittery hands twirling his cigarette between his fingers. Joker wordlessly slips his lighter across the table.  
  
“Phanks,” Nino mutters candidly, placing the cigarette on the corner of his mouth as he lights. “So…Long, got any gear?”  
  
Long’s eyebrow quirks up as he has the decency to look stern. “I’m clean, Nino-chan; I’m facing a five stretch for dealing in case you didn’t know.”  
  
Blue, stale smoke settles down as Nino exhales, small mouth quirking deviously. “Thought it was drug theft. Find out who grassed you out?”  
  
Romes sits up, laying his cards down. “You two want to piss off, seriously.”  
  
Nino raises his hands in a mock gesture of surrender before he wipes his nose skittishly. “Cool it, Ro-chan. We’re just dropping in to check on the wares and make some yen if we’re lucky…”  
  
“We met a friend of yours today; he’s pretty interested in money himself,” Joker mutters, holding his hand out for his lighter before Nino can pocket it.  
  
“You’ve seen Sho-chan?” an expression, as good as one could term it an  _expression_  flitters over Ohno’s features as he blinks at Joker, mouth formed in an unmoving “o”.  
  
Nino shoots him a sharp glance.  
  
“Funny how you knew who he was talking about immediately.” Romes makes the remark, leaning his arms back against the seat. Long sits up, looking around apprehensively.  
  
Nino removes his cigarette-- expelling another rush of blue smoke out his nose-- before he rests his small hands on the table, seeming to shrink even smaller in his jacket. “Just like we don’t hound you about who you used to be, we’d expect the same courtesy, Oh-chan and I. People change, we gotta accept that. And half of what Sho does is fuelled by what we expect from him...”  
  
Joker, Romes, and Long stare silently at Nino. His sharp, small features are steely, his long, clever eyes are still glazed with whatever gear he’s on. Sharply, almost like static, he smiles. “Of course, I’d be just as rich as he is, if Oh-chan and I didn’t love the snow lights so much, isn’t that right, Oh-chan?”  
  
Ohno, having checked out moments after his question earlier, blinks and gives Nino a lazy smile in response. Joker and Romes both look away derisively as Nino pounces on the other man, smothering him with gropes and kisses. Long just laughs.  
  
It’s as Joker looks away that he spots the metal door on the other end opening to admit a nervous-looking Ru. The way his long gait seems to apologise for simply existing in the room--in just that moment-- is so familiar to him he can’t resist hollering.  
  
“Ru! We’re here!”  
  
Ru appears to gather himself, straightening and offering a stolidly dour expression to anyone who looks up at him. By the time he reaches them, Long jumps up wrapping the arms that earned him his nickname tightly around Ru.  
  
“Welcome back!”  
  
Ru disentangles himself, looking a bit put-out as he catches sight of Romes’ still firm scowl fixed on him. Joker can’t help himself though; he calls for another round as Ru slides into the booth beside him.  
  
“Romes’ payoff tonight was pretty steep so let’s celebrate,” he announces offhandedly.  
  
Ru’s mouth curves with some semblance of tired amusement. “Hey, Koki,” he says softly. And Joker has to clench his fists to keep from shoving the guy or grabbing him into a fierce hug both of which would spill the drinks. He settles for grabbing the scotch bottle and throwing a shot down especially for Ru.  
  
“You’re not leaving here sober, you asshole,” he shoots at him smugly. Long chuckles and Romes starts dealing the deck again, looking down at the table, lips trembling.  
  
“We’ll play Asshole then,” he mutters, bronze hair hiding his face, but they all spot the grudging smile.  
  
Long collapses into a spate of hilarity, and as Joker reaches over to smack the back of Long’s head and Ru folds his arms, leaning back with  _that smile_ , it’s six years ago again and the only thing by way of plans they have is to make more easy  _geru_.  
  
Joker watches the transformation as the game Asshole turns into a gleeful shouting match between Romes and Long which turns into Poker with stakes on dumb things like eight hairs from Romeo’s left leg, the rest of Long’s self-respect, Joker’s last cigarillo, and Ru’s Müller, much to his laughing protest. It’s like he’s spinning on a timeline, stretching things back, but not to when they were simpler, but to the point where their lives  _really_  began. That lively, hot scotch-flavoured moment when they looked around and realised the people around them would be all they’d need.  
  
Romeo, hard muscle and sharp, angry looks is pretty orange-haired Uepomu who can’t take his liquor. Stern and sarcastic Ru-- their wild card-- is soon talking fast, drunk and chatty as he tries to peek at the cards in Taguchi’s hands, who just chortles rakishly--once keyed up on some pill or other-- now just high on his own laughter, thinks he’s winning while Koki-- the same if he ever felt it-- has a full house, waiting for his moment to lay down his cards. Make them laugh again, watch Long writhe with glee even as he loses spectacularly.  
  
Two-thirty in the a.m. and Romeo has wandered off with their waitress, “for some fresh air,” he says.  
  
“We gotta do this at least once every week,” Ru slurs, pressing the knuckles of his fist against Joker’s arm before he slips out to stagger off to the bathroom.  
  
Joker nods but notices Long looking at him steadily across the table, a sad cautious look and he looks back not sure what to say. In just under three days, Junno wouldn’t be here anymore and he’d never say it out loud but nothing about this would feel right again.  
  
“It’ll be cool, ok, Long? Maybe…”  
  
Taguchi shrugs, pulling his whiskey on the rocks closer. “I’m not dumb, Joker. If they’ve got an informer than I’m definitely getting that five-stretch. We…we should just waste some together before the trial comes.”  
  
Helpless, mouth numb, he pounces on that. “That’s right! We’ll throw you a party the night before. We’ll invite everyone, send you off with a bang.”  
  
Long smiles, line of white teeth like a special relief against the burnt yellow light of the bar. “Like my birthday, right?” he murmurs complacently. “A day just for Long Johnny…” he hiccoughs a little and Joker can’t help grinning back.  
  
“Yeah. We can dedicate a whole day to it; it’s all you.”  
  
Long gets that daring look in his eyes as he squints at Joker, as if he’s bursting with something. “ _Longest_  day of the year, eh?” And he covers his face with his hand as he resumes his chortles, shoulders shaking and Koki squeezes his glass, wishing Ru or Romeo would come back and interrupt.  
  
At least some things never change.

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

  
“Oi! Joker! Phone for you,” Long shouts listlessly and Joker, surprised, looks up from helping Romes stretch. Long rarely sounds like that, but as he takes the phone Long just breezes past him, silent and without smiles.  
  
“Hello?” he mutters, watching Junno’s retreating back with confusion.  
  
“I see he’s still out of jail; did you three manage to bury his sentence or what?”  
  
It takes Joker a moment to realise whom he’s speaking to. “Kazu?” he hisses, turning his back on Romes’ curious gaze.  
  
“Mm,” she says softly. “So talk to me; what’s going on with Taguchi.”  
  
“What did he say to you? Does he know about you? What’s happened?”  
  
He can sort of hear her roll her eyes over the phone. “He just thinks I’m some woman looking for you. Would you answer my question? How much do you need to get Taguchi’s case file buried?”  
  
“We went to Sakurai Sho for the connection, but we didn’t have the money and he wouldn’t take our offer to work and Taguchi went all noble on us and didn’t want us to forfeit the building.”  
  
She sighs, and it’s a buzzing rush against his ear. “I don’t even know why I’m doing it like this, but look, I’ve got a way for you to get some cash and you can solve your problem.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You guys have been doing this kind of thing for years so just set aside your ambitions for a day or so and just do what I tell you,” she snaps.  
  
“What are you talking about?” he demands in a whisper. Romes is standing up, frowning at him.  
  
“Just listen; I can’t talk long. Tomorrow morning there’ll be two accountants coming out of a bank I know with five hundred million and it won’t be protected. You take it, and use whatever you need to pull Taguchi out of the jailhouse and fix up your building, ok?”  
  
“Kazu…”  
  
“I don’t want this coming back to me, got it? It’s the only thing I can do right now and I’m  _really_  compromising myself…” she ends on a sharp breath, as if a realisation has caught her. “I know I’m just on some kind of hero kick; humour me, Koki. At least fix things on your end.”  
  
She hangs up and Joker stands there, phone still in hand, stunned. He makes some air time when Romes pops up from behind him. “What are you up to?” he asks briskly.  
  
Joker frowns. “Romeo, we’ve just been handed a golden opportunity.”  
  

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

  
  
  
Sho has entered an uncharacteristically foul mood, and as they had made their rounds earlier in the day, collecting funds and dispersing them, his entire disposition only grew darker. Ru had tried to be a bit more cheerful for his benefit, but the whole Yamashita deal had taken Sho-san down a large number of notches.  
  
He’s going to be the owner of over eighty million once he’s paid off his contacts from this deal alone which’ll expand the ventures of the jimusho, put him in big with more of the elite, but all at the risk of cheating his pride. Still, Ru’s attempts at heartiness are met with silences and thoughtful looks. So naturally he’s surprised when he receives a call at three a.m. and Sho’s name blinks on his screen.  
  
“H-hello?” he murmurs, not fully awake.  
  
“Ru, I’ve been robbed!”  
  
Ru pauses. “What?”  
  
“I said I’ve been robbed!”  
  
“Wh-when?” is all Ru can think to ask as he rolls out of bed, grabbing his trousers.  
  
“How would I know when? It’s that fedora! I set it near my desk, no one else has been here, and it’s gone! The hatcase is empty!”  
  
Ru is now much more awake as he pulls his belt up, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He has no words as he considers what it might mean to tell Yamashita-kun that Sho has lost Jin’s fedora. The looks in that man’s eyes alone spoke volumes and vows of how many bullets would be shot through the both of them the moment this got out.  
  
“Ru, this is not good…” Sho murmurs, echoing Ru’s thoughts precisely.  
  
“I’ll be right over, Sho,” Ru replies, slipping into his shirt.  
  
“Right, please come quick. Bring the juniors.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
_|_|_|_|_  
  
 

 

 

 

The juniors are not even juniors anymore, but it’s what Sho and many others keep calling them. A light smattering of HeySays, Kisumai boys, and a couple of members from what was once Question? and FiVe. Shot for work and nearly broke, a great number of them were called to work directly under Sho. Unlike Ru, they’re the ones that are sent out for the dirty work, for moments like this where Sho, short hair all over the place on his head, is on edge, tired, and just ultimately useless.  
  
That is why Ru is there. And he knows this is going to be dumped into his lap; he’ll be put directly responsible for dictating and it’s been ages, and he feels just as keyed up as Sho at the moment.  
  
Gathered in Sho’s dimly-lit office, staring at the bare table where the hat case stands, empty, Sho paces and Ru pensively looks at the juniors. They’re a respectable bunch and Ru is proud of what he’s taught most of them, but some of them still haven’t grasped their position.  
  
Yaotome-kun, swaying from being pulled out of bed minutes before, yawns, his eyes still shut. “So, where was it, Sakurai-kun?”  
  
The other juniors glance at him and Ru sends him a sharp incredulous look. Sho pauses in his pacing, hand brushing into his hair. “For god sake, Ru, slap that one; this type of stupidity isn’t what I pay you for….” He turns on his heel, fingers sweeping against his cheek nervously. He’s done in. “I really can’t take anymore of this.” Sho pulls at his own tie, eyes swimming with rocketing nerves. “Right, I’m leaving this to you, so find that fedora, bring me a body or something because I’m going to bed!”  
  
It’s only as the door shuts that Ru sighs and looks over at Yaotome-kun. That one had been a hard egg to crack even back during their music days. “Hikaru,” he snaps. “You keep asking idiotic questions like that, you see Akun there? He’s going to hit you.”  
  
Igo Akun, round-shouldered and stern, glances down at Yaotome, who purses his lips, round eyes flickering to Ru. “Was just trying to show initiative…” he mutters.  
  
Ru shuts his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Akun, hit him.”  
  
Akun turns and offers a wack to Yaotome’s head.  
  
“No,” Ru slips his hands in his pockets, looking dour. “Do it properly. With your right.”  
  
Akun looks confused, but he turns back around and cuffs Yaotome’s cheek. Yaotome stumbles back a bit, but he blinks sheepishly around.  
  
“No, no, no,  _no_ , Akun. You grab his collar and you bring your palm down on him; put your arm into it.”  
  
Akun squints at Ru, shrugging apologetically. “I never took tennis lessons…”  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Ru groans exasperatedly as he comes around the desk toward Yaotome, who stares at him, mouth open. They all stare at him as he pulls Hikaru forward. “Like  _this_ ,” he says poignantly before bringing his right palm crashing over Hikaru’s bent head. The younger man yips as he stumbles forward, dazed when Ru lets him go.  
  
“Ah,” Yaotome mumbles as his knees buckle, taking him to the floor.  
  
“There,” Ru continues, stepping back. “Some of you HeySays might have seen me do this back in the day, and it’s true that if you can manage a good, strong slap like that, your clients and contacts will have no reason to hold back. They’ll chat with you like you’re holding their debut interview and they’ve waited years.”  
  
Hikaru takes a shaking moment to get to his feet and the other juniors stare.  
  
“I don’t believe there’s need for strong violence,” Ru explains, glancing at each of them in turn. “You can regress them back to their childhood, and it’s as good as a scary lecture from your sensei. If that doesn’t work, you cut ‘em or you pay ‘em, but keep your receipts since you’re not working for yakuza.” A still, inspired moment passes after he’s done speaking, and Ru folds his arms as he delivers the quiet order, “Now get out there, and look for that fedora.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

“Which direction are they coming from?” Romeo queries absently, fiddling with his security vest that keeps sliding off his shoulder. There aren’t many bank security guards out there with bare collarbones and somehow a lightweight boxer like Romes manages to make the bulky uniform look like a fashion article draped over him with the cuffs all the way down to his fingertips.  
  
“From the left, I think.” Joker leans around their alcove, tucking his billy club underarm. He hears Romes let out a grunt of frustration as his collar slides sideways again. “Just button it to the top, already!” he snaps.  
  
Romes looks at him a bit mulishly. He unbuttons two more, eyebrow raised. Joker glares.  
  
They stand in silence, watching the walls opposite from their spot outside the bank. It’s not even a long wait as two well-dressed men exit the bank, both with metal briefcases. Joker shoots a glance at Romes who nods, ready.  
  
The two men round their vehicle and one of them glances at Joker, takes in their security uniforms, and offers a nod.  
  
“Hi,” Romes nods back, his smile like a brand of sparkle in its own right.  
  
“…Hi,” the man replies slowly, exchanging glances with the other man.  
  
Joker gives them a salute and both men pause and he smiles. “If you don’t mind just dropping those bags and stepping away from the car.”  
  
One man freezes. “What?”  
  
“Drop the bags in the car.” Joker orders, still smiling affably.  
  
Both men set the briefcases inside.  
  
Romes makes a shooing motion with his baton. “Off you go.”  
  
“Wait, is this a robbery?” the man on the left demands, eyes wide.  
  
Joker steps out of his alcove, Romes right behind him. They move over to either end of the car as the men back away. “Damn straight it is,” he returns lightly. “Now fuck off.”  
  
They slide in and Joker sits behind the wheel while Romeo smirks. “Nicely executed, Joker-san,” he remarks slyly.  
  
“Thank you kindly, Romeo-san.”  
  
Romes, pulls the briefcases to the car floor and Joker slips on his seatbelt, and stares blankly at the wheel for a moment.  
  
“What are you doing?” asks Romes.  
  
Joker bites his lip pensively. “I…don’t have the keys.”  
  
Romeo pauses, glancing at the window. “There they are, in  _his_  hand. Just get them from him.”  
  
Joker hesitates. “This is so embarrassing.”  
  
“Joker, what the hell?” Romes cries.  
  
Joker, bright red, rolls down his window. “Give me those,” he snaps, holding his hand out. Shaking, the accountant drops the keys in his open palm. He rolls the window back up as he turns on the ignition, ears burning.  
  
Romes leans his arm against his window, observing Joker trying to start the car. “Tell me you can drive stick. I will be so very surprised,” he mutters derisively.  
  
“Shut up,” Joker mutters, jogging the gear shift. The car shudders and lags as he puts his foot down. He can feel both accountants and Romeo gazing at him in utter incredulity.  
  
“You’ll want to reverse,” Romes supplies, tone still inexonerably mocking.  
  
“Would you shut it?” Joker hisses, wincing as the engine groans. Glaring bloody massacre, he rolls the window down again. “How the fuck do you reverse?!” he shouts and the accountant jumps back, visibly panicked as he points at the black knob near Joker’s knee. Romeo’s leans his head on the dashboard, shaking with laughter.  
  
The engine roars as he manages to pull the gearshift back while yanking the knob and the car wheels back. Joker says nothing as they pull out and Romes is crying with laughter as they drive off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

  
  
  
  
Late afternoon, car parked behind a warehouse pointed toward Nishi-Shinjuku, Joker borrows Romes’ phone to call Ru. When he picks up, Ru’s tone sounds a bit harried on the other end. “What?”  
  
“Ru, it’s me, Joker,” he says hesitantly.  
  
“Ah,” Ru’s stern tone softens, but he still manages to sounds a bit hapless. “Look, Koki. Something shitty’s going down right now so I’ve got a lot to deal with. I won’t be coming down to Shokura until this is settled-“  
  
“No, Ru. It’s cool. We got the money for Sho-san…over Long’s sentence?”  
  
“What? Really? All of it?”  
  
“And then some,” Joker grins, catching Romes’ eye. “You wanna come get it or should we meet you somewhere…”  
  
“Um, I’m gonna have to call Sho first. Things are a mess right now; I’ll get right back to you…”  
  
Joker hands Romes back his phone. “Should I call Long with the good news then?” he asks, flipping it back open, but he catches sight of Joker’s pensive expression. “What’s up?”  
  
“Don’t call just yet; Ru’s gonna talk to Sho-san about it so we can get this cash to him and deliberate what to do next.”  
  
Romes nods, but his dark eyes remain fixed on Joker. “So you gonna tell me where you got this tip or are we gonna keep playing around like this?”  
  
Joker grimaces. “Come on, Romes. If I don’t tell you something, it’s not ‘cause I’m actively trying to make you antsy. I’m genuinely trying to protect someone.”  
  
“Someone… important?” Romeo echoes a bit lightly and Joker shoots him a hard look, but Romes just shrugs. “Whatever, I’m a millionaire; friendships  _clearly_  don’t matter anymore,” he announces with an impressive sulk, kicking his seat back to recline.  
  
They sit in a silent dissatisfied huff as Romeo fiddles with his seat and Joker rolls down his window to light up.  
  
“Being forever alone with your money aside,” Romes says finally. “I still say we should call Long. Let him know tonight’s party isn’t goodbye…he’ll like that.”  
  
Joker can already picture the tool’s face lighting up, a whole world of relief and gratitude crossing over those expressive features. It sort of makes his teeth hurt for some reason. “Let’s wait ‘til we’re certain,” he murmurs back.  
  
  
  
Sitting in the backseat of the R-Class Benz, Ru dials up Sho-san. When Ru finally gets through, Sho sounds like he’s been running a marathon; his tone raked dry and slurring. Drinking too. Super.  
  
“Have you found it?!” he demands the moment he recognises Ru’s voice.  
  
“No, but I’ve got good news.”  
  
“And Yamashita’s money hasn’t come through… why the hell is everything falling to pieces now?” Slow, impatient breathing on the other end. “Well, out with it; what’s the good news?”  
  
Ru hesitates. “Well, Joker and others. They want to take up your offer, but instead of the building, they’ve got the money.”  
  
The pause on the other end is like a shadow filtering through the line, and Ru already knows how this is going to end.  
  
“You… called to tell me some trio of kouhai want me to do them another favour, you haven’t found out who stole that  _stupid_  hat…what part of this is good news?”  
  
Ru opens his mouth, uncertain how to approach this. “The trial is tomorrow. They’re a bit desperate—“  
  
“Ru! Don’t call me until you’re ready to bring me the fedora and those responsible! Call Yoko for me and give him a hundred thousand for some info…whatever. Just bring me actual results!” He hangs up and Ru is left staring at his phone. And he feels it, the same way he felt that morning just days ago, looking down at Jin’s photograph. A strange empty resilience, survival where it isn’t meant.  
  
His hands shake as he dials Koki back.  
  
“Sho says he…he can’t help.”  _I can’t help_  “I’m so sorry, Koki.” They tumble out of him, the apologies, and he tries not to think of how the three of them looked the other day, standing in a row under Sho’s weary, critical gaze. He knows that five years will alter Taguchi in subtle ways he’ll never regain and having known Junno for this long, it hurts perhaps the most.  
  
“Don’t…” Joker sighs, but he sounds the way Ru feels. “Don’t blame yourself, whatever’s going on. This isn’t your fault; we’re gonna get through this, all right?”  
  
He makes something noncommittal by way of reply, throat tight.  
  
But it’s only when Koki hangs up that Ru comes to a decision. He sets his phone down, hand resting on his forehead. He feels a pair of eyes on him and looks up. Yabu, seated behind the wheel next to Yaotome, is blinking at him curiously in the rear view. “Umm…where to next, Ru-san?”  
  
He pauses, looking at the two boys thoughtfully. “Kabukicho,” he returns slowly, still thinking.  
  
If he wants to slip this under the radar, then he’s going to have to get everything done in one night. He knows he can do it, it was the reason Sho picked him six years ago; he was innovative. Four years behind bars hasn’t changed that; the only difference between then and now is that Ru has lost a lot of his self-possessed scruples. Where the unassuming ambition once burned inside him, there is only ruthlessness now.  
  
Yabu parks on the curb, waiting as Ru, pen lid in his mouth, scribbles out a lengthy note.  
  
“Hikaru-kun,” he says finally. “I’m going to give you two this envelope; it has about two hundred mill; you’re going to head over to the DA’s house at…” he pauses, sliding open his blackbook, skimming down some numbers before handing it to him. “Take these addresses down and go there immediately once I get out. Tell the man you meet at each place that Sakurai-san sent you, pass a hundred to him discreetly along with the note.”  
  
“When do we come back and pick you up, Ru?”  
  
Ru sits up, adjusting his pistol sideways in his belt. “You don’t. Once you get that done, you can take the rest of the night off.  _I’ll_  be looking for that fedora tonight.” They both nod, watching as Ru steps out of the car, buttoning up his coat despite the wafty summer night. It feels like the heat before rain.

 

  
  
  
_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 His destination is a dive bar in the backstreets, tucked carefully behind a hostess club. Just a single shaft of artificial light leads the way down this empty, dioxin filled alleyway. So dank is the area that the rain from two days ago still hasn’t dried on the broken cobbles and there’s a certain mustiness that makes Ru hold his breath as he trots over to the entrance.  
  
The large man waiting there, upon spotting Ru, just steps aside.  
  
The space is crowded, and from the smell of things, it’s with a lot of users that wouldn’t be tolerated at Shokura. He recognises quite a few faces, sprawled on the furniture. He isn’t half surprised when he locks eyes with Nino first as he enters. Leaned so slothfully over a back that looks like Ohno’s, he’s as thin as ever, and despite his clear under-eye deterioration, he looks just as lively, a glittering mockery still sitting on the very curl of his smile.  
  
“Ru-chan!” he calls blearily as he gets up with surprising ease. “This is rare…what brings you down here? We got amoeba and hail with all the artillery, but they’ll probably make you add in some scratch for a spike of amidone that you won’t even get since the supplier’s just double-dipping.”  
  
Ru frowns. “I don’t even know what you’re saying. I’m looking for Baru.”  
  
“Ah, right. He’s just into the hookah tonight so you can find him on the third floor in the back alcove. I’ll take you there actually.”  
  
Subaru, usually dealing in Naniwa, often comes down to Tokyo to run his hothouses all part of the biggest chain of drug supply clubs in the southern parts of Japan. Because he has to stay on track and keep an eye on who’s using and who’s gone clean, he knows more about the streets of urban Japan than the rats themselves. Within the short time he’s been into this business, Subaru’s become a fortified world of disgusting information.  
  
And the speed in which that someone had stolen that fedora indicated he, setting aside the fact that it was a priceless item, was either trying to mess with Sho or he had to be a crackhead deluded into thinking he could buy himself a week in the snow for its selling price. And Baru was bound to know either one of these.  
  
They’re halfway up the stairs when Ru realises that Nino’s talking to him. “…heard your friend’s facing a five-stretch for drug theft.”  
  
Ru glares. “That isn’t any of your business.” He steps around some girl shooting up on the first landing. “Does  _everyone_  know about that?”  
  
Nino snickers, shooting him a look over his shoulder. “It was sort of unexpected knowledge considering the man who told me…ohh, I bet you’re dying to know who told me.”  
  
“No,” Ru returns, dead-pan. “I’m really not.”  
  
“Suit yourself. Still think you’d like to know though,” Nino adds smugly, hopping up two steps at once. Ru won’t deny that it bothers him that a crack-addicted thirty-five year old is just as jumpy and small-looking with a face that looks like it’s barely scraping twenty to match.  
  
Baru doesn’t say a word when they push the sliding metal door open. He’s alone, the television in front of him flickering, but his small frame is still, sharp and riveted on the screen. There’s a moment before Ru notices there’s more than the smell of hookah in the room. He really hates it here.  
  
When they step further into the light, Baru finally shoots an affable glance at them, a small smile for both of them. “Nino, you know it makes me uneasy when you bring people up at this hour. Can you believe they’re showing reruns of Janiben…”  
  
“It’s Sho-chan’s lapdog,” Nino prods, grabbing Ru’s shoulders and pressing him forward so that Subaru looks at him properly.  
  
“Ah, Ru; what brings you to my world?”  
  
Ru sighs. “I’m looking for a hat,” he says, deciding to ignore Nino’s snort. “It was in Sho’s office for no more than twenty-four hours before it went missing, nicked right out of his house.”  
  
Subaru reaches for his remote and switches off the television, leaving the three of them in just the light from out in the stairwell. “A hat, you say?”  
  
“A fedora, actually. You’d know Yamashita’s back in town because of Nishikido-“  
  
Subaru chuckles. “That’s right, and he took a leaf out of the book of humiliation and loaned Sakurai that fedora, didn’t he?”  
  
Ru folds his arms. “And now it’s been stolen, so there’s no way of returning it, which is only going to start some useless crime war.”  
  
Nino sits on the sofa to the left, curling his knees in. “Hmm, I wonder who could possibly have taken it.”  
  
There’s just way too much self-satisfaction in Nino’s tone that Ru pauses and looks at him steadily for a moment. “It wasn’t you, was it?” he asks, low and dangerous. “Did you use it to con some other junkie into wanting to sell it?”  
  
Nino’s expression doesn’t change, his narrow, observing eyes still glitter with something malevolent. “The only person who’d buy or steal that hat is the owner of it, wouldn’t you say?” he asks finally. “I mean, it’s not like anyone sane would wear it in the first place considering whom it belonged to.”  
  
Ru scoffs exasperatedly. “You’re crazy. Yamashita wouldn’t pay for someone to steal it back just to get Sho into a panic… it wouldn’t accomplish a thing. A scheme like that’s got stupid written all over it.”  
  
“Stupid yeah… reckless, stubborn, childish, maybe a little adorable,” Nino smirks. “You’re right, shouldn’t have said anything.”  
  
Ru isn’t sure what Nino is getting at nor why he’s so insistent on being a part of this matter.  
  
Finally Subaru murmurs, “Well, whoever stole it is bound to turn up soon enough in my circle. I’ll keep an eye peeled for you, Ru. I heard some news about a robbery up by a bank in Omotesando, but that’s about it, really.”  
  
Ru sighs. “OK, Baru; thanks. Call me as soon as you hear a word, all right?”  
  
“Absolutely,” he says, picking up the remote to switch the tube back on, simultaneously reaching for the hookah pipe. Ru, a little disappointed, turns for the exit.  
  
He gets halfway down the stairs when it clicks. And he realises that Nino rarely ever speaks to anyone anymore unless he’s trying to get something whether that be thrills or a chance at free gear. And he’s certainly never had a reason to speak to Ru so casually. He backtracks and jogs back up the steps, sliding open the metal door again.  
  
Nino is smiling as he enters, clearly waiting.  
  
Ru reaches behind into his belt for his gun. He points it, hand steady. “What do you know, and you’d better tell me quickly.”  
  
The little actor’s mouth quirks up, front teeth shining blue in the glare from the television. “No problem at all, Ru. Still it’s just plain courtesy to help those who help you, isn’t it?”  
  
“Oi, Ru; put that thing away,” Subaru grumbles, not looking up from his show. “We need to learn to be free of that sort of thing.”  
  
He hesitates, eyes locked on Nino’s smirking face and he sighs tucking the gun away. “I’ll give you two hundred thousand yen. Just spit it out.”  
  
Nino’s grin grows wider, his eyes shining for the first time in the longest time. “I know where your cute little hat is being hidden,” he announces calmly, rising from his spot on Subaru’s couch.  
  
Ru reaches into his pocket and unearths his wallet. “So tell me.”  
  
“Head over to Ni-chome, there’s a karaoke box up there by this place called Annex. Look for a blue light down the alley and that’s your entrance. The last karaoke booth; that’s where you’ll find it.”  
  
Ru counts out two hundred between wary looks at Nino. “If you’re stringing me along, so help me…”  
  
“Why would I?” Nino returns comfortably. “You’re the one playing the crime game, not me.”  
  
Wordlessly, Ru lays the money on the coffee table and Nino offers a frank, cold smile with a wink as he picks up the cash.

 

“Thanks,” Ru finally mumbles before he slips out.  


  
  
  
_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

Despite the vague way in which Nino had dictated the location, it didn’t take Ru long to spot the neon blue in the alleyway distant. As he enters the dark, he keeps his sleeve pulled down, but his pistol tucked into his palm. The cusp of it being that something feels wrong because his entire brain is screaming in one direction. He feels and sees, but the entire gesture of walking down this buzzing, dangerous path is that he feels the destination like it’s something far more inevitable than it really is.  
  
What can he expect? An empty room at the end of the karaoke booths, the fedora sitting there. No, it’s entirely different and his palms sweat. The place is not packed, but the occasional passers-by jolt him from the trance-like manner by which he approaches these rooms. White walls, and sizzling neon lights glare down at him and it sounds like deep vibrations from the music rocket up his bones. Ru squints in the bleary light under smoke and laughter distant.  
  
It’s not the voice, but the song that gets his attention. He doesn’t know the lyrics; they’re in English, but he remembers the tones and the strange trills he could never manage back when he used to sing. He steps further down the hall; the voice isn’t quite on-key and words are missed, pronounced strangely. The name of the song has escaped him, but knows it only by context, hearing it warm his ears as he takes each step closer, eyes still squinted toward the dark end.  
  
It’s when he’s one door away from the last that the title hits him because he’s thinking about his gun and he remembers the film and Whitney Houston’s voice and how this voice is so different and the words are garbled and tones are off. All Ru can think of is an afternoon more than ten years ago, curled up on a couch next to an overly excited bandmate, talking to him about the plot and how sweet it was that Kevin Costner was the one who needed protecting from his own fear of failure and Ru recalls squinting up at another pair of round, brown eyes as they shot deep meanings at him.  
  
Ru isn’t breathing when he turns the handle, pushing the door open with the barrel of his pistol and the music inside nearly shatters his sensibilities as it bursts into the climax and the singer on this cocaine-studded stage is sprawled on the tiled floor, just a pair of loose jeans, hugging his bare hips, one hand clutching the mic, eyes shut as he wails, black decorated fedora resting on the floor beside him.  
  
The music goes on, and Ru is slumped against the door, wide-eyed at this image that only seems to feed the surrealism two-fold. He isn’t sure if his throat closes up or if he fell to his knees first, but all he sees is his gun clattering to the floor, and Jin’s lurid gaze, raking over him in a decisive manner as he continues to wail into the mic, stretching out his arm in a beckoning gesture.  
  
It’s awful enough to be beautiful in its own right. “And I-eee-I will al…waaays love  _Ru_ ,” Jin croons softly, breaking into laughter as he sets the mic down, ignoring the music still blasting from the speakers in front of him as he sits up.  
  
Ru is caught between sentiments and he can’t speak. He just stares and stares.  
  
Jin blinks unfocused eyes back at him, puzzled. “So…just for future reference,” he says matter-of-factly, words slurring. “Visitors were supposed to book their appointments a day  _before_  they walk into my office.”  
  
Ru doesn’t think about it, doesn’t even want to; his arms reach out and grab him, enfolding Jin in the tightest embrace, and he’s shaking as Jin hums, still caught in his glittery-eyed high. Ru holds on though, fingers closed tight against Jin’s palpable, living skin that’s no longer a dream; he absorbs smells, sounds, and sensations, all so real like nothing else can ever be to him again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_|_|_|_|_

  
  
  
  
  
Joker twiddles the wheel on a brand new Santa Fe SUV, glancing occasionally at the man in his passenger seat. Junno’s eyes are distant, staring out the front windshield, daunted and dying. It’s always been disarming when he gets this serious. There’s a levelled absence there when his mouth isn’t turned upward in some type of sunshine grin. The sight of it chills Joker and he’s relieved that the younger man hadn’t been there to witness this afternoon’s disappointment. The trial is tomorrow and there’s no mistaking that Long will go behind bars so while Joker feels nothing but a quiet rage at Sho-san, he feels for Ru, listening to the tone in his voice is worse than watching a building collapse in on itself. And still Long stares out at the passing city lights, looking like his sentence sits immediately in front of him.  
  
Joker clears his throat.  
  
Long’s eyes shut as he lets out a scared and shuddering sigh.  
  
They hit a red light and Joker looks at him,  _really_  looks at him. Long’s short, caramel-coloured hair is going to be a beacon to the worst of predators in the penitentiary and even the acrobatic musculature isn’t going to help him much when the entire man’s frame seems to exude a sheer desire to be taken down to lower grounds, forced to hit emotional graves; the idea of those prison guards or  _anyone_  trying to break this helplessly annoying being just makes his throat close up.  
As if feeling his stare, Long’s steady, but narrow dark brown eyes slide toward his, appraising. “Did you ever stop to think how odd it is that we’ve all had to do time when we’ve been as careful as anything? The jimusho safeguards us and still…even Uepi went in for two years, and  _you_  just barely made it out when you did your three.”  
  
Joker chews his lower lip as he guns the engine on the green light. “Yeah, I’ve given it thought.”  
  
“And?” Long sounds almost pleading, and Joker understands,  _knows_  that Junno just needs an anchor, something serrated and vengeful to set his mind on when he’s locked up tomorrow. Joker doesn’t like that idea. He waits until they’re on the highway before he speaks.  
  
“OK, Long, so we have a rat among us; that’s nothing no one hasn’t considered before. But you need to put that out of your head. This is your night, man. We’ve got enough to treat you like a real Johnny Rocker. We’ve been seriously planning this, so think of it as your launching party. Nino says he’s bringing you some poppers—whatever that means—we’ve got four strippers and the Aoi  _twins_  probably the most expensive escorts  _ever_  to have escorted…” he trails off once he gets a look at Long again, who has turned to face the window on his side, swallowing thickly.  
  
Joker turns back to the road, brow furrowed. “For fuck’s sake, whatever happened to  _longest_  day of the year, eh? I’m just trying to help you out, make it easier…” He realises how he must sound, but there’s something about the other man’s expression at the moment that causes him an awful degree of frustration.  
  
Long glances over, blinking at Joker’s hunched figure over the wheel and Joker can feel it, that cautious look again. “I do appreciate all this, I  _do_ , I just…” he trails off, dragging his fingers through his hair, looking away again.  
  
Joker side-eyes him, still driving. “What? You just what?” He reaches over to turn down the radio.  
  
“It’s not something you’d understand.”  
  
This is surprising in more ways than one. Joker pulls his foot off the gas to slow down a bit; they’re close to Romes’ apartment and if this is serious… “Oh come on, Long… _Junno_ , we’ve known each other for  _years_. You’re one of my best friends and we’re teammates. You’ve called me your “complementing feature” on more than one occasion, right?”  
  
Long watches him, eyebrows quirked enigmatically.  
  
Joker’s ears are burning. He hates spilling out this sort of thing. “So of all people, I’d…I’d understand anything coming from you.”  
  
“Would you?” There’s a challenge in the other man’s tone, penetrating in the silence of the car’s interior. Joker pulls into the residential area and slows down.  
  
He shoots a hesitant look at Long. “Don’t fucking make me repeat what I just said.”  
  
Long wets his lips, considering this seriously. He turns in his seat, hands folded in front of him, taking a deep breath. “OK,” he begins. “Koki, I don’t want the strippers.”  
  
Joker pauses; they’re about five blocks away from Romes’ house. “Umm, OK…” Joker then amends, nodding grimly. He looks at Long, “OK?”  
  
Long’s stare is unblinking. “I want you.”  
  
It’s like he misheard because there’s just no way, really, and it’s stupid and his face is already bright red from his earlier words, but as he expels a nervous laugh, he looks back at Long and he sees the look in his eyes, bright like Joker is something to be had, something beautiful and all of his insides grind to a halt. He doesn’t know what he says or how he manages to pull the SUV over in the middle of the street or when he jumps out of the car.  
  
“ _You_ …” he starts, unable to articulate a thing. “You fucker!” he hollers, standing in front of the SUV’s blinking lights. “I’ve known all your girlfriends! All of them!”  
  
` It’s drizzling out and Long leans out the window, staring at him with a vague, badly concealed horror. “Didn’t I say you wouldn’t understand?! I fucking said it!” Long hollers back, slipping back into his seat, covering his face with his hands.  
  
Joker walks over and kicks the curb and stomps back, positively beside himself. “Understand what?!” he demands, fists clenched. “That you happen to be gay?! After all this fucking time?!”  
  
Long groans, eyes downcast. “I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”  
  
“Damn straight you should’ve kept your mouth shut!” Joker’s tone is approaching an uncontrollable hysteria. “We’ve had  _showers_  together, man! You’ve seen my fucking cock! We should’ve just gone and done the strippers like the Long Johnny I know would’ve done with me! But  _no_ , suddenly you’re gay?!”  
  
Long’s next gaze is sharp, a nerve touched. “Are you seriously pulling judgements on me over this? And you don’t think I know about you and  _your_  little secret?”  
  
Joker freezes. “What do you mean my secret?”  
  
“I saw you with him,” Long replies shortly. He averts his gaze, arms folded, a towering shadow on the inside of Joker’s car. “Or her. Doesn’t matter since you had your eye on him even back when we were kids.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m talking about Kame…” he whispers. “I bet you’ve got a hundred excuses about it, how it makes you such a straight shooter now that he doesn’t have a pair. God, but you’re so stupid sometimes…”  
  
Joker stares at him. “You knew?!”  
  
Long doesn’t look at him, his eyes are shut as he stares at his own hands. Joker can feel the drizzling rain beginning to soak through his jacket, a startling reminder of where they are and what’s  _really_  happening to them. He sighs, rounding the vehicle to get back in behind the wheel.  
  
“I…” Long sobs after a silence, head bowed against the dashboard, trying to hide it as he sniffs. “I am  _so sorry_.”  
  
Joker’s chest hurts. “No,” he sighs. “No, Long, I’m sorry.”  
  
“No, it’s me, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve…”  
  
“No, no, I’m sorry,” Joker insists.  
  
“ _I’m_  sorry…” and Long’s trying to pull himself together and this is hardly fair.  
  
“Forget it, Long; I’m fucking sorry!” he snaps. “I overreacted and you’re right, the thing with Kame…I know it’s nothing and it’ll always be the same and I probably would’ve had her back when she was still a man…I dunno. Yeah, I’m  _sorry_.” He turns in his seat, knee pressed to the gearshift and he feels like shit stepped on.  
  
Long moans, leaning his head back against his seat, hand pressed to his forehead. “Five years…fuck, Joker… I don’t think I can do it.”  
  
He sounds so little and so young. Joker’s throat officially closes as it becomes a little uncomfortable to blink. Helpless, watching Long come apart at the seams right next to him, he gets it. And he doesn’t quite know what the code is for “manning up” to do something, but he feels it takes a lot of reserve for him to utter his next words. “So,  _Junno_ , what is it? What…” he swallows, waiting for Long to look up at him again. “What exactly was it you want to do… with me?”  
  
The pause feels like an age and Long  _must’ve_  heard him because he stops breathing and the air is soundless but for the passing cars, swerving at their blinking hazard lights. Finally his hand falls and he’s looking at Joker, eyes wet, smile watery but genuine. “Koki…” he murmurs and he’s always been  _that_  sort of pretty.  
  
Joker glares, irritation flooding him as he begins to feel embarrassed. “Well?”  
  
Long’s laugh is soft, breathing like a solitary and safe whisper. “Tonight, Joker? Tonight…” he trails off and Joker braces his hands on the armrest as Junno’s tall frame raises, leaning across the space between them, lashes wet.  
  
He tastes like tears and the press of his lips isn’t demanding, but hesitant and a little coy. He pulls back and Joker’s heart is beating a rough pattern on the inside of his chest.  
  
“Tonight, before I go, there’s only one thing I want to do with you.”  
  
The car’s heater burns and breathes like a promise.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

Jin Akanishi, supposedly dead, now exists at the back of the karaoke bar owned by a friend, shanghaiing the last room, his stuff scattered about, middle glass table cleared but for a crate of cigarettes and a bunch of drug paraphernalia. His guitar is a bit scratched, but still the most expensive thing in the room. And there, still on the floor is the missing fedora, tossed carelessly aside.  
  
Ru observes this from his spot curled up in the corner of the room’s soft cotton and foam covered bench. Jin is practically wrapped around him—heavy weight and wiry muscles--covered in Ru’s coat, halted breaths, shaking out of him restlessly. Last night had been a trade-off of mind games. Jin, completely doped up, had looked at Ru like he was a distant miracle, laughing at him with new forms of half-lyrics, half-musings. The same as it had been all these years since he’d left to take his dream. He was a mess, but his mind was really not, wide eyes smiling with delight, but mutters of broad stretches of nonsense and Ru couldn’t get a single straight answer from him. Still, one thing remained quite clear: Jin was not going to let go of his fedora for anything.  
  
So now, nearly eight in the morning, sleepless, Ru is thinking of secrecy. He’s found Jin, found the fedora, but the euphoria of having him here-- too thin, aimless, but still so beautiful--makes him feel a certain possession. He has to leave, has to report to Sho, but he fears that if he looks away, lets go for even a moment, Jin will disappear again. The world outside still buzzes around them, though, and Ru knows he is compromising himself even more by remaining here.  
  
He shifts to get up and Jin stirs, locking feverishly glittered eyes up at him.  
  
“Obamaru,” he says with affection, clutching tighter and Ru feels his reservations collapse, but he pushes at Jin’s arms, disentangling himself gently. It’s surprising when Jin rolls away, spreading himself along the couch, eyes still shut. After a silent, breathless moment, he rises, stretching. A new species as his messy brown hair falls over his face and his rock-hard shoulders roll with flexing musculature, still so painfully thin, and Ru sits up.  
  
“Jin,” Ru says. “I need to take that fedora back or I’m a dead man.”  
  
They’d had this conversation the night before, but at that time, Jin still kept his music blaring had only replied. “If you use the whipped cream charger tonight we can talk about the inner workings of that machine in front there. That’s eight grams of intelligent conversation, wouldn’t that be fun?”  
  
Now, a bit more lucid, Jin’s voice comes out hoarse, like a low groan, only lazier. “Nakamaru,” he says dragging out the word as he reaches for his cigarettes. “The hat stays. And if you’re a dead man you can come stay with me. We’ll both be dead together.”  
  
Ru sighs. “Why are you doing this, Jin?” He gets up and pulls at his coat, slipping it over his own shoulders, suddenly cold.  
  
“I want you to think numbers, Ru,” says Jin, flopping back down on the couch, arms spread over the back, as the smouldering death stick in his mouth glows orange with each of Jin’s breaths. “Big numbers that increase with each day.”  
  
Ru stares down at him, wordless.  
  
His eyes look like pools of deep massacres. “CD sales, OK? They rocket up when a star dies. I’m a legend and everyone’s buying my album, so take that to your geniuses up in Toudai because I’ve created something from nothing.” He hums, pulling his cigarette out to point it playfully at Ru, round mouth curled up in a secretive grin. “Numbers, Ru.”  
  
“You’re doing this for the royalties?”  
  
“Art, Ru. I’m spreading it like peanut butter so people buy it and it gets them.” He looks off somewhere, chewing his pretty pink lips. “That’s what art does to you, Ru; it  _gets_  you.”  
  
“Right,” Ru replies promptly. “All the same, I need to go, but I’ll come back. You…won’t go anywhere.” He meant it as a question, but it had come out as a flat statement, caught between an order and a place where inflection just doesn’t exist.  
  
Jin’s mouth falls open, mock surprise, eyes laughing. “Am I the meteorite fleck in your morning tea, Ru?”  
  
Ru shuts his eyes. “Just stay here,” he orders. “I’ll be back tonight.” He steps around the table and glances once more at the discarded fedora, utterly divided, before he leaves the room.


	3. Three

 

 

 

When Joker gets to their building that mid-morning, showered, but still tired, he walks in hesitantly. Long’s trial had been early morning around nine, and he’d stumbled in his door this morning around three, drained and glowing, but feeling like the world was rolling apart in sharp cascades every time he so much as gave it thought. He barely slept, though his muscles ached, and their conversations and Junno’s scent still lingered in the air around him as he lay awake.

He imagines Long must be behind bars now, looking out with those big black eyes at the eight by ten stone surrounding him. Joker feels his insides twist all over again.

Romes looks up from working his punching bag, eyes sliding toward Joker in an enigmatic way as he enters. “So I did a payment on the building like you said and we’re expecting an order on equipment for your recording studio. The internet says we can do the renovations ourselves, but we’re both way too lazy and Long’s not here so we can’t make _him_ do all the work…”

Joker can’t really make words at the moment so he ignores Romes as he reaches for the coffee Romeo had obviously brought in. He notices the three cups and just feels all the more awful that as much as Romes is going to act like Long’s sentence doesn’t bother him, it’ll take him months before he can stop bringing in that extra coffee cup.

“Speaking of which,” Romes begins, tone a bit more steely now. “You skipped his trial, you bastard; everyone was there. You’re a heartless asshole. Even _Nino and Ohno_ came.”

Joker, a little broadsided, shoots a guarded look at him.

Romes’ mouth twitches. “As a matter of fact, I get the feeling the only person Long wanted to see there was _you_ ”

Gloves are off and Joker bristles. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

Romes pushes his punching bag aside and reaches for his towel nonchalantly. “Oh, come on, everyone knows how much you loved Long,” he drawls.

Joker stares at him, fists curling. “You better fucking tell me what you’re getting at, Romeo…”

Romes straightens, and his eyes are mocking like he fucking _knows_ and he folds his arms and _laughs_. Joker’s just about to cross the room and split the other man’s jaw if he can manage when a pair of arms lock around him from behind and the scent he spent all night trying to preserve in memory is clouding around him as a laugh tickles in his ear.

“Guess who!” he’s saying.

Joker freezes.

“The DA lost the paperwork and they let me off. Case is closed!” Long exclaims from behind him as he lets him go.

Romes laughs all the more at what must be an entertaining expression on Joker’s face. And then Long is laughing too and he doesn’t know what this sick feeling in his lower belly is, but he raises his hand to his face, a shuddering breath escaping him.

“Five years…” he whispers, breaths like choking gasps. He turns and gets an eyeful of Long looking at him warmly, quite tangible and never going away. Romes stops laughing and his eyes flicker between the two of them with invested curiosity.

Long gives him a confused look, smile fading. Their phone rings.

“ _You_ were supposed to be in fucking…” he trails off, backing away from the both of them. He runs his hands through his hair as he goes for the phone, and he knows he’s trembling. “Hello?” he says, turning his back on the other two.

“Hi, Koki?” Ru sounds once again quite harried and Joker wonders what is really happening on his end. “So I hear the DA lost some paperwork,” he states, seemingly unable to keep the smug from his tone.

“Yeah…” Joker frowns. “I thought you said Sho-san couldn’t help us.”

Ru clears his throat. “He couldn’t, so I did something I wasn’t supposed to, which brings me to my main concern at the moment. The money I used on the DA and prosecution needs to be paid back to Sho’s accounts before he notices; you still have that money?”

Joker pauses. “Well, see, Ru,” he begins slowly. “We thought there wasn’t going to be a need for it so we made a lump-sum payment on our renovations, bills, and whatnot. We’ve only got one mill left.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hears Ru spit vehemently as the phone goes fuzzy for a moment. “Ah, Koki; tell me you’re joking.”

“I’ve had enough jokes for a year, to be honest,” Joker mutters, glancing at the duo now preoccupied with their coffee. “I’m sorry, Ru. I can give you the mill if it’d cover some of it, but other than that, we’ll be back to relying on profits from Romeo’s betting.”

He hears just a silence fraught with anxiety. “I… _really_ hate to place this on you, Koki, but…that money is just one of two things I need to have or I’ll be a corpse swimming in Tokyo Bay by the end of this week.”

Joker swallows. “Ok, look; that’s not—I won’t let that happen. We’ll find the money somehow and get it to you real quick. Just buy yourself some days. It’ll be all right, Ru.”

Another pause, this time heavier. “Yeah,” Ru says absently, voice hoarse and distant. “Yeah, all right. Just…do what you can, OK?”

“We _will_ get you that money, Yucchi,” he states heatedly.

Ru makes a noncommittal sound before he hangs up and even the click sounds like something devoid of life. Joker holds the receiver for a still moment, caught in that waking horror. Just when things are sort of starting to be all right. He considers how he’s going to explain this to Long and Romes.

He hasn’t placed the receiver down for more than two seconds before it rings again.

Silence before, “How did it go? Is Taguchi all right?”

“Oh, Kazu...yeah I wanted to thank you after yesterday, but your phone’s been off. The building’s going to be renovated and Romeo’s called in for equipment so we can put up a recording studio here.” He says it woodenly because he isn’t sure how to breech the next question. “Still, something went wrong and I was wondering if you somehow had another—I don’t want to compromise you anymore, and you know I wouldn’t ask unless it was important…” he trails off, feeling like a tool.

“No…there is some work, but I need to see you,” she says softly.

Joker pauses. “OK…”

“Do you have any friends with, you know,” she sounds uncomfortable. “Uchi is interested in throwing a Johnny Rocker-themed party and it’s all very silly, but could you come with any friends who might have Quaaludes?”

“Ah, yeah, I think I might know someone. I’ll also come with Ueda …” he pauses before he says Taguchi. Maybe Long should stay home. And he’s glaring for some reason so his next tone is gruff. “Yeah, so just Ueda and a few friends!”

He only feels embarrassed after Kazu hangs up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naturally, Sho is in his office when Ru gets there around ten. The curtains are shut and his desk is bare, and he’s pensively making his way to the bottom of an Alize bottle, a tall full glass in hand and his feet propped up. “Hullo, Ru,” he says with some gravity.

“Sho…” he begins cautiously. “It’s not even midday yet.”

“We’re dead, you know that, right?”

Ru says nothing.

“Yamashita asked me for his fedora back early this morning even though the deal isn’t done; the money hasn’t come and I’m sitting here thinking of how the hell we’re going to stall for time. Even in death, that kid brings me nothing but pain. _Jin Akanishi_. You know they hold candlelight vigils for him, every night, outside my doors.” His wrist presses against his forehead, cheeks red and breaths like breaking reality waves.

Ru doesn’t trust himself to reply, so he silently crosses the room to where Sho sits. He rounds the desk and picks up the bottle and pries the glass from Sho’s grasp. He tries not to look him in the eye as he sets the glass and bottle aside.

Sho is looking up at him already bleary. “We’re dead,” he mutters again. As Ru helps to prop him up, pushing his legs down off the desk and hiking him up underarm, Sho grabs ahold of his coat and his swallows are thick. Ru only sighs as he leads him to the couch nearby, pushing aside the mess of newspapers as Sho tumbles backward, landing vulnerable, unsuppressed, but unaware. The other man’s eyes shut, cherubic features at a feverish rest.

It’s when Ru makes a move to go, that a hand closes on the bottom hem of his jacket, fingers curled into the fabric. “You find that hat for me, OK?” he mutters. “I know if it’s you, you’re gonna come through.”

Ru doesn’t look back at him.

“I’m…hopeless without you, you know that?”

It’s ironic, this drunken confession, because as much as it might have shaken him a week ago, now it is like cold flames. He thinks of Jin, sprawled out exactly the same like this on the couch back in Ni-chome and he can’t even find that part of him that gives a damn anymore. Jin, being alive, bringing back with him all the memories of special moments, music, and fantasy has engulfed Ru’s sensibilities. He’s going back to him.

“Get some rest, Sho,” he murmurs and only moves when Sho’s grasp drops away.

He sees the desk is bare because Sho has flung his papers and folders to the floor and envelopes lay open and discarded. Ru, as an afterthought, goes to gather them together. It’s when he’s slipping a cheque back into an envelope that he spots the name. _**Nanashi Namae**_ written in bold script across the first line. He stares down at it for a still moment, unsure of what it could mean. He doesn’t feel a hundred percent as he hadn’t slept the night before. With some resolve, he pockets the labelled envelope to work out later.

He’s going to see Jin again anyway; integrity isn’t what he’s going for anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re wearing a suit, Nino?” Romes queries, eyeing Nino’s velvet dark purple sport coat and matching trousers. He almost looks clean, if one felt like just using the word facetiously.

They’re standing outside the Uchi townhouse door-- four of them-- Romeo, Joker, Nino, and Ohno and the bass is shaking just the front step alone.

Nino looks smug. “Yeah. Happened to get a good sum from a generous donor; bought this suit and Oh-chan a brand new fishing rod. We’re going on holiday after this...”

The door opens before anyone else can get in a word and a man in a tuxedo without pants stands looking up at them. Behind him, there’s a smattering of people with drinks and Joker’s mouth falls open as he spots the unmistakeable Tegoshi who is scampering across the front hall in only a bow-tie, shorts, and a pair of bunny ears.

“Oh my god,” Romeo mutters, but he’s smiling with clear amusement.

Nino barges to the front, holding Ohno by the belt. “My kind of party,” he announces, brushing past the doorman.

Romeo and Joker exchange glances before they follow.

The sitting room is full to capacity and the Uchi townhouse seems quite small and Joker keeps looking elsewhere whenever Tegoshi comes running by, giggling madly. Romeo stands near him until, with a grin, he hits Joker on the back. “Would you look at the _girls_ they’ve got here.” And then he vanishes.

Joker grabs a bottle of corona from the cooler, uneasy as he looks around for Kazu. It’s just then that he locks eyes with a smiling, elated black-eyed stare. Long is looking at him, though he’s clearly half-engaged with one of the many scantily-clad women. Outraged, Joker crosses the room to him.

“Excuse me,” he says to the girl, all but pushing her aside and Long’s smile is full of unharnessed mirth.

“Hey, you,” Long says warmly and Joker looks around for anyone he knows before pushing Long into the hallway behind the entrance. People pass, but Joker keeps his back to them, practically tucking them in an alcove.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands.

Long looks at him, head tilted, surveying. “I thought I was supposed to be in jail tonight, so I didn’t make any plans, you?”

“I was _invited_ , you tool!”

“So was I…by Romeo.”

Joker claps his hand to his face. “God _dammit_ , Romes,” he sighs and Long lets out something a bit like a titter and Joker’s shoulders tense. “You listen to me, OK? What happened between you and I last night… that’s our secret.” Long’s smile widens—probably at the memory -- and Joker shuts his eyes, but keeps talking. “It only happened because you were supposed to be locked up in prison tonight.”

Long’s smile turns a bit grim, but he nods, looking somewhere past Joker’s head.

“So if you so much as tell a soul—“

“Koki?”

Joker freezes and his eyes meet Long’s before he turns. Kazu stands there, Virginia slim in one hand, looking at the two of them with some puzzlement.

“Taguchi,” she finally says with a hesitant smile

“Kazuya!” Long brushes past Joker and without warning just scoops Kazu up in a warm hug and Joker watches a little uneasily as she laughs, pushing him away with some embarrassment. She turns to smile at Koki and that’s the happiest he’s seen her.

“How’ve you been?” he asks, shooting a quick and deadly look at Long, who stares back at him serenely.

“I think we shouldn’t talk out in the open here,” she replies, arm still locked in Long’s brightly affectionate hold. She withdraws. “Come, we’ll talk in the kitchen.”

Long doesn’t move as Joker follows her. He glances back and Long’s gaze is steady like last night, staring holes into Joker, Long is silently claiming something Joker didn’t know he could give. He may have failed to breathe just then and Kazu sends him a glance, calculating and a little unsure.

“I feel as though we’re seeing a lot more of each other,” she remarks as Joker closes the door behind them.

“A lot more than before, yeah,” he murmurs, looking at her properly under the lights of the bare kitchen. “And you’re all right?”

“Better than before,” she returns, and leans back against the counter, a body of careful construction speaking to him of warmth and the way his life is meant to remain complicated as it is. “So the job. It’s the same time, same place, but the security’s going to be tighter.”

“Thugs?”

“Maybe. I know they’ll be armed. And listen, it’s not money I want to be stealing, but it’s you guys…” She looks over at the door, pensive again.

Joker hikes himself up on the counter, watching the stress in her frame curve upward. “If you don’t want us to do this, we can find another way…” he begins slowly.

She smiles, shaking her head. “That isn’t what I’m worried about. You see, it isn’t a theft. He doesn’t want these withdrawals to appear in his tax records so I’ve made it as though he isn’t withdrawing a thing. I intend to go into his credit records and age them by seven years as if the withdrawal is an unpaid debt to which where it’ll vanish according to the Fair Credit Reporting Act.”

“Wait, whose money is this anyway?”

She averts her gaze, bringing her cigarette to her lips, arm folded across her stomach. “Yamashita Tomohisa’s, while technically it’s not his, because it’s a credit withdrawal. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

“Kazu…” he breathes. “You’re amazing.”

She flicks a dark look at him. “I’ll take care of you guys as long as you’ll let me. If anything…” The glare from the lights makes her look a little pale and the smoke from her quellazaire curls close to her lips as she holds it absently near. “…it makes me feel like I’m still your ‘K’.”

Joker slips down and begins to walk toward her, but she holds her hand up, the waves of her brown hair curl up as she shakes her head. “I know,” she says simply and smiles. “I only needed that inexplicable hug from Taguchi to remind me how that’s still the case.”

Joker grimaces, but a relief shakes through him. She sounds so much happier.

“Yamapi asked me to marry him,” she states and shoots him a brief guarded glance.

Joker stares.

“And I’m going to say yes. Uchi and I have talked and as much as we’ve been good friends and he’s taken care of me…we’re not in love. This,” she makes a small indicative gesture at the party still buzzing outside the door. “This is our divorce party. Only a flamboyant man like Hiro would want to turn something as distasteful as a divorce into a gathering of debauchery. I imagine you’ve seen Tegoshi as well?”

“Wait…” he starts, ignoring her laugh.

The quellazaire goes to her lips as she watches him a little side-long, curiously. “You’re meant to congratulate a newly engaged woman, Koki.”

It certainly takes him back to when they were young and she was just pretty Kame, vulnerable and angular all the same. Now she’s beautiful and still just as decisive. “Con…congrats,” he says finally.

She nods approvingly, still looking at him. “I want you to be happy too, all right? Whatever you need that money for, use it and for the sake of what KAT-TUN was, make the other four happy as well.”

He feels better, if not a little blindsided, but he’s able to smile.

Kazu straightens and walks toward him, arms slipping about his neck as her narrow eyes squint with a bit of watery look. She presses her lips to his cheek. “Taguchi’s a sweet guy, isn’t he?” she whispers.

Joker squirms out of her hold and glares. “Ka~me,” he groans out of old habit and she heads toward the door, her impressive heels clicking against the tiles of the kitchen.

She pauses, arm on the door’s handle. “You know, sometimes those tabloids have some pretty good ideas. I’ve talked Yamapi into putting his business to rest for a bit to take a holiday with me…think it’d be nice for Kamenashi Kazu to run away to Europe with her lover…or is that too much?”

Joker shrugs, swallowing something bittersweet. “I…think it’d suit you.”

Her laughter then is golden with more than just delight. “I think so too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He meets back up with Romes who is leaning against the front stair banister, eyeing something across the room. Joker follows his gaze and spots Long sitting extremely close to a man on a small sofa. He squints and realises it’s Uchi, shyly sneaking an arm over Long’s shoulders.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Joker snaps.

Romeo glances at him languidly. “What?”

“Long, over there, he’s… practically _in_ Uchi’s lap…”

Romes takes yet another opportunity to laugh at him. “ _Uchi_ , currently fetishizing the idea of the Johnny Rocker—to which I told him Long _Johnny_ would be a perfect specimen-- happens to have access to info on who might be going to the court with info about our dealings.”

Romes falls silent as they continue to watch. Long leans over and whispers something in Uchi’s ear and the other man grasps at Long’s t-shirt a little suddenly and Joker’s jaw starts to hurt.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d do anything to find out who put me behind bars two years ago, but he wouldn’t tell _me_ a thing until I introduced him to an ‘an _attractive_ Johnny Rocker like Long…” Romeo reaches over and pulls a full shot glass off a passing server’s tray. He downs it bitterly.

Joker would be amused at the venom in Romeo’s tone, but he’s been watching Long and for fuck’s sake the man _already_ likes him so there can’t be any point to running his hand along his thigh. His head hurts and he’s sick of this party. “Look, we’ve got another job, so we’ll be at it tomorrow.”

Romes turns. “Is it wrong for me to assume that someone _here_ gave you that information?”

Joker frowns. “It’s not wrong, and I’m not telling you still.”

Romeo rolls his eyes but as he does that he appears to make eye contact with a passing female hired bunny. She looks back at him as she passes and Romes glances back at Joker. “Meet me at my place in the morning so you can tell me even less then.” He mutters with an edge of sarcasm. “I’ve got something to take care of.”

Joker watches him tail his bunny girl for a silent, exasperated moment before he glances back at Long and Uchi. Finding he doesn’t much care to look at that either, he turns for the door, catching sight—only as he’s exiting—the sight of Nino and Ohno, center of a room, entertaining and handing out their gear.

Joker never much liked parties anyway.

 

 

Something smells like permanent marker and Ru is immediately eighty percent convinced that this is what wakes him up. He’s forgotten where he is so the fluorescent lights swinging around the room startle him as his eyes open.

“Dammit!” comes a moan. “You messed up the last part of the kanji!”

He squints a bit groggily at the blob kneeling right beside his head. He pushes his coat, flung over him, aside as he tries to sit up. It’s Jin and he’s pushing him back down, alarmingly strong palm flat on his chest. Ru notices his shirt buttons are undone and then subsequently notices the words and characters littering him from his stomach up. “What…what are you doing?”

Jin leans back on his heels, chocolate brown eyebrows curved in. “I’m improving the quality of your skin. How many more fans would you have if you had the words, ‘Akanishi Jin’ on the tip of your nose.” He says with ill-concealed amusement. He holds up a pencil. “I couldn’t write on you with this, so I used something permanent.”

“What on earth…”

Jin tucks the pencil behind his ear, and he reaches to his mouth and pulls out a stretch of pink, gleaming bubblegum, thoughtfully twisting it around his finger. By the look in his eyes and the metal tools sitting on the table, Jin’s just taken a few rails and he’s doped up proper.

Ru groans, pushing Jin back and away as he gets up to look in the dark TV screen to make out his reflection. It doesn’t help much, but he can see the black on his nose. Sighing, he sticks his sleeve in his mouth and then rubs vigorously at the black, hoping it comes off.

“Stop~!” Jin cries, half-giggling, crawling toward him. “Your resale value…”

“I’m not an idol anymore, Jin, and nor are you,” he replies patiently. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. He remembers coming straight here after leaving Sho and he doesn’t recall saying a word to Jin. He must’ve dropped at the door if anything.

He turns and Jin is upright, seated on the floor, his hair a complete mess. Ru crosses the room back over to him and kneels. “Jin, you’ve got to get cleaned up. If you could see yourself,” he murmurs and without thinking he reaches up, twisting his fingers into Jin’s hair, pulling it back and upwards. Jin leans forward, forehead resting against Ru’s chest as Ru finger-combs through his hair.

“Gimme your wrist,” Ru orders and Jin holds his arm up compliantly as Ru slips the hemp bracelet off over his hand. Carefully, trying not to tug too hard, he twists the string in until Jin’s hair is up out of his face. He accidentally snags some of the hairs against his shirt sleeve button.

“Nngh,” Jin says, and it’s an odd sound so Ru glances down. He meets hard raw dark eyes gazing up at him, pupils wide like pools.

His fingers are still caught up in Jin’s hair and he smiles a little as he tugs and Jin’s eyes shut, dark lashes fringe soon wet when Ru, curiously, pulls a little harder. Jin’s hands come up against his torso, sliding along the bare skin under his open shirt and that changes everything.

It’s like a touch caught between a careful maybe and a perfect finally. Jin’s eyes are diamond glitters under his long eyelashes and his lips are dry, but he brushes like thin paper against Ru’s lips. Their kiss is just bites catching, whimpers and lazy moans, wrapping sweaty up against Ru. He knows he isn’t clearheaded himself, but aside from the realities of death and disappearance and change, _this_ , just starting to writhe in his hands, will always be the same and perfectly alive.

It’s as Jin shifts onto his lap-- jeans scraping up against Ru’s own expensive trousers-- that it occurs to him. “Am I dreaming when I come in here?” he asks it aloud, completely lost in sensation and want.

“Am I like this in your dreams?” Jin asks before rolling his hips up against Ru’s lap.

It’s against the floor leaned up on the bottom of the sofa, and Jin-- all tastes of bubblegum, scents of hotel soap and a musky deep scent that is only natural-- rides against him almost instantly hard, clutching at Ru like a handlebar on sobriety. Ru touches him without shame, watching as the invincible crack high rocketing in Jin’s blood, makes him curve forward; hot lips coming to rest on Ru’s collarbone and he sucks right there—just right like he’s inhaling Ru’s skin—letting out a low, languid groan as Ru pulls his zipper down, bringing him out; hard and pliant in his hand. His thin body shudders as Ru curls his fist, squeezing him.

Ru leans back to watch Jin and he’s flush, eyes shut, feeling the high and the rising erotic blood, pressing his palms back, fingers curled around Ru’s legs, helpless rocking and free like he’s out, riding mere intensity and beauty. Ru is awestruck at the sight as he keeps his rhythm, tugging Jin off and the sounds he makes—fuck—so much more _lovely_ and reeling with a melody that’s desperate, small and breaking, sobs of release with his hips hankering up and down, restless convulsions up into Ru’s hand.

“Look at me, Jin,” Ru says, and just from watching Jin move over him, undulating in waves of wanton ecstasy, he wants his attention.

Jin, eyes still glittering and pale and doped insane, leans his head forward to look at Ru and still he breathes in desperate gasps, biting his lips with each slide of Ru’s fist. In a fluid motion he slides forward, reaching for Ru’s belt buckle, lips parted as he unsheathes the leather and Ru’s motions cease as they manoeuvre closer and Jin’s fist slides over his own as he presses both of them together. Ru fights to keep his eyes open to watch Jin who closes his hand around them, fingers scrambling at Ru’s fist.

“Tighter,” is all Jin says and his voice is caught in that high as they both in tandem run their hands back and forth, a simultaneous pattern of strokes and Ru bends his head forward as the heat floods his stomach. And when Jin leans forward, muttering half-phrases and stilted breaths, their lips touch and Ru opens his mouth against Jin’s tongue, slipping clear and hot over his, tastes of the same bubblegum fruits and something newly bitter like the weak flavour of a cigarette an hour ago.

Just the shameless feel of Jin burying himself in his neck, mouth open, gasps shuddering out of him as he comes. He undulates between both of their fists, growing wetter and warmth staggering in between the tiny space between them. “Ru,” he says.” _Ru_.”

Ru comes, arm crooked around Jin as he squeezes the both of them tighter and listens to his name, the only thing that makes this moment so palpable. And he knows he’s not dreaming because it hurts in the way that an orgasm can rile through his senses after he hasn’t…not for so long. And yes, this is good, and he’s not sorry and Jin’s weight feels like something deadly and warm.

“Yes,” he manages as his muscles weaken and Jin’s arms curl around him.

They lay there, just breathing for the longest time before Ru grabs some tissue in his pocket, cleaning them up. He vaguely thinks how he’s going to need a new shirt as he spots a stain that Jin left. When Jin moves, it’s liquid and he seems to have forgotten where he is, as he sits back, hiking his jeans back up.

“I need another hit,” he says and it’s a lonely statement as he averts his gaze, looking around the room, but the tape-wrapped package of plastic on the table is empty. He shifts, absently straightening Ru’s lapels like it matters, before he gets up. “We need to go see someone.”

Ru watches this with trepidation. “Jin…” he starts and he himself knows it’s going to be a lecture without effect. That is Jin’s semblance of thought and he cannot change it until he is willing to come out of this hole. Whatever his motivation for being like this is, Ru is unable to be much besides a cause and effect in a single moment like the last they just shared.

“Let’s go,” Jin is saying, and his kicking around looking through his things for something and finally pulls out a white hoodie and slips it on over his head before shrugging a thick coat over his shoulders making him look bulkier than he really is. “There’s a hustler who’s always on Nakadai.”

Ru only has enough time to grab his own coat before he hurries to follow Jin out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Jin travels, it’s like there’s no one else with him, he hurries ahead and moves like he’s going at a freight train speed. Ru walks the whole way behind him, practically jogging to keep up. He finally catches him as they turn the corner to one of the clubs on Nakadai Street.

Jin, like any star, ignores the line-up in front and heads straight to the bouncer and once again Ru is two steps behind him.

The bouncer takes one look at Jin. “I don’t think so, waster,” he mutters, pressing his meaty hand up against Jin’s chest stopping his progress. Jin’s entire frame jumps to attention and Ru comes forward, already tense for what’s about to happen. Jin’s been on and off with the crack thing, but it’s the same with any of his addictions. You just don’t upset any of his ventures for anything, music, sex, or drugs. Jin operates in a straight line, jagged with claws.

As Ru comes around to grab Jin’s arm, Jin shakes him off, but his tone is a disarming calm. “I guess you don’t watch enough television, or you’ve just forgotten who I am. My friend and I want in, and you’re going to let us in,” he states.

The large bouncer’s lip curls. “Just run along, you pair of junkies; it costs money to get in here.” He brushes them aside as he allows a few other glitzed up men to enter.

Ru realises that he must look an equal mess as well with his face stained with permanent ink, his coat dusty and smelling like smoke and burnt crack. Jin is stepping forward, but Ru sidesteps him to get in front. “Look, I have money; you should probably just let us in.”

The bouncer shoves him back and as he stumbles, it occurs to Ru that he left his gun back in the karaoke booth. Jin responds to Ru toppling like he’s had his trigger pulled so he barrels forward at the man. The bouncer responds with a left hook and Jin hits the ground.

“Hey!” Ru yells and doesn’t think as he takes a swipe at the man, but the bouncer is ready for him, gripping him against the lapels he hauls him backward. It’s almost a deadly blow across his jaw and Ru goes flying and hits the sidewalk. The crowd of onlookers yell and catcall and Ru winces, trying to pick himself up.

He sees a shadow loom over him and he looks up and locks eyes with Jin. His ears are still ringing and he can’t think straight. There’s something feral in Jin’s gaze now, sanity sliced up by every diamond of coke he’s had within the last five hours. Those unfamiliar dark circles of rage staring down make Ru stutter. “Let’s leave it, Jin. It’s all right. We’ll take a taxi down to Kabukicho and I’ll buy you some gear over there.” He knows he isn’t talking to Jin anymore, but he sits up on his elbows as Jin turns to look at the bouncer who has resumed his position smugly. “ _No_ , Jin! I’m fine; let’s just go!”

Calmly, Jin pulls the pencil still tucked behind his ear as he stalks toward the larger man.

“Fuck,” Ru hears himself say as he tries to scramble back up, his muscles screaming, his jaw throbbing.

It happens too quickly and Jin’s fingers are too fast to spot as he jams the pencil in the bouncer’s jugular and the people in the line-up back away, some yelling, some staring in shock. Jin yanks the pencil out, ignoring the bouncer’s gasp and the blood flow. The large man staggers forward and Jin doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t change expression as he thrusts it once more but in the back of the man’s neck. Screams ring out as Jin brings his foot down on the man, axe-kicking him to the ground.

“Jin!” Ru hollers, getting up but unable to move for horror.

Jin tucks his pencil away as the man writhes on the pavement, unable to scream for the blood bubbling out past his lips. Jin just chews his lip thoughtfully as he looks around before he grabs a garbage can lid nearby and wallops the man across the face with it. He gets in a number of gut-splitting kicks with the toe of his boot and the bouncer falls back, his face unrecognisable and black clothes wet and dark with blood.

Jin adjusts his hood which had fallen over his head before he expels a heavy, exhausted breath. He looks over at the frozen Ru before grabbing him around the waist. “What do you know, Ru. That which starts bitter ends sweet.”

Ru has no words and he can feel Jin’s arms shaking as he hauls Ru into the club with him.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       



	4. Four

 

Joker doesn’t sleep a wink. So around seven he decides to go over to Romeo’s place and kick him out of whatever hangover he probably picked up from last night’s party just so they can plan for the job. Romeo keeps a key on the upper lintel of his apartment door. After knocking for a straight five minute interval, Joker just goes in. Naturally he regrets this the moment he crosses the threshold into the studio apartment.

It’s like someone hit the volume on a porno. The bedroom door is only cracked open a bit but Joker cringes when he hears the heavy guitar riffs streaming around the apartment, but as much as it was switched on to drown out the other noises, he can still hear it all too well.

“OK, sweetie, say my name!”

Some woman, her breathy voice hoarse from god knows what, throatily starts to cry out in these volleys of sheer elation.

“Romeo, oh…a-ah _Romeo_ ~!!”

Romeo’s raking, boyish chuckles fill the air.

A nightmare shudder coating the walls of his mind with unwanted images, Joker rushes to the living room where the entertainment centre is. Muttering a plethora of _‘no’s_ , he tweaks the volume to maximum and sits on the couch, knees drawn up, desperately trying not to think too much.

It’s perhaps what feels like years later that the volume of the music goes down and Joker opens his eyes to Romeo—hair caught up in a ponytail over his head— wearing a bathrobe, slowly turning the knob off the volume. He fixes a slightly sardonic look at Joker before raising a glass of milk in a smug gesture of a toast.

Joker sits up. “You could’ve left me a message you know. This is sort of uncool,” he grumbles.

“No, you’re just early,” Romes answers, dead-pan, between gulps of milk.

Joker opens his mouth to say something, but Romeo’s bedroom door opens and the bunny girl from last night, all in sheets, shuffles for the bathroom, sending a shy, smiling look at both of them. Joker only recognises her because she’s still wearing her ears. He shoots a judging look at Romes whose shoulders are shaking as he pretends he’s still drinking, but the bubbles in his milk tell otherwise. “Along the subject of rabbit or wolf…” he starts to say, grinning.

“No,” Joker cuts in, getting up. “It was only funny the first time with that thing you had going with the actress who played the werewolf three years ago. Now it’s just... look, let’s talk work.”

Romes looks a little put-out, following him to the kitchen table. “Last night didn’t work out for you, then?”

“We’re not going to talk about last night or any other night; we’re talking about this afternoon and how we’re going to do this,” Joker snaps grumpily as they take seats on opposite sides of the table.

Romes frowns at him, but nods. “Right, whatever. I don’t know if we can get proper guns in time, but I have some shells we can fill with rock salt as an alternative so if the first blow doesn’t do the job we can slow them down with a few shots. At about twelve feet anything’ll penetrate. So I’ll drive the bigger thing before we toss it and Long can drive-“

“I don’t want to use Long.” Joker purses his lips, eyes fixed downward.

“What?”

“I don’t wanna use him.”

“But he’s our driver,” Romeo says poignantly, brow creased. “We’re not going to get much done if he’s not driving us out of there.”

Joker folds his arms on the table. “No.” He can’t for any effort look Romeo in the eye.

There’s a very protracted pause before Romeo sighs, folding his arms. “Seriously, Joker…what the hell is going on between you and Junno, huh?”

Joker swallows. He feels like he keeps enough secrets from the other two like this, and he’s generally had enough. “Ueda,” he says finally. “There’s something about Taguchi that I don’t think you know…”

Romeo’s expression remains still, his eyes hooded. “What? That he’s gay?”

Joker’s jaw drops. “Wha- how the _fuck_ do you know that?”

Romes rolls his eyes. “ _Everyone_ knows he’s a flamer except you. No, he likes boys,” he murmurs candidly. After a pause, he gets up to go to the fridge, pouring himself another glass of milk. He downs it, then turns to Joker, unmindful of the milk moustache. “If it’s the steak or the mashed potatoes, Long’s the all-meat kind of guy.” He makes a sweeping gesture, glass in hand, that looks like it’s supposed to encompass the term, “all-meat”.

Joker stares. “There is something very _very_ wrong with you,” he says.

Romes has his tongue in his cheek, trying not to smile. “Did he hit on you or something?”

Joker buries his face in his hands. “Yes! Yes, he fucking did the night before his trial and…”

“And so?”

Incredulity doesn’t quite cover the reason Joker’s entire face is red.

“What’s the problem?” Romes puts his glass in the sink and comes back over to sit. And it looks silly with the milk moustache and everything but Joker has bigger issues. Romes’ next sentence in particular. “It was supposed to be his last free night so you took care of his business and that’s what _real_ friends are for. I’m proud of you,” he declares succinctly. “Well done.”

Joker thinks he’s going to cry. “You…”

Romeo nods sagely. “Also, I won’t tell any of the guys.”

“What?” Joker says, still beet-red. “What do you mean you won’t tell any of the guys? You won’t tell them what?”

Romes leans forward intently. “So what did you do? Did you suck his—“

“NO!” Joker hollers and it’s just as Romeo’s bunny girl emerges fully dressed. She jumps at the shout and Romes turns his head to look at her, all bright smiles and charm. Joker drops his head in mortification. He’d forgotten she was there.

“Look at you,” Romeo says to her warmly, while Joker tries to blend into the table via osmosis. “All good as new.”

She laughs and comes over and there’s a breathy, kissing pause and Joker doesn’t look as he sits in the afterglow of his own waking nightmare, head still on the table. He waits until they’re done and she leaves before he raises his head again and by that time Romeo’s looking at him again, all long-lashed eyes smug. “You’re blushing like a maiden right now,” he remarks. “You _must’ve_ touched him.”

“ _No_ ,” he hisses back. “OK, so I asked him…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_“What exactly was it you want to do… with me?”_

_Long’s laugh was soft, breathing like a solitary and safe whisper. “Tonight, Joker? Tonight…” he trailed off and Joker braced his hands on the armrest as Junno’s tall frame rose, leaning across the space between them, lashes wet._

_He tasted like tears and the press of his lips wasn’t demanding, but hesitant and a little coy. He pulled back and Joker’s heart was beating a rough pattern on the inside of his chest._

_“Tonight, before I go, there’s only one thing I want to do with you.”_

_So he paused, like anything melodramatic he enjoyed, seeming to rest in a second where Koki’s nerves and fears all rocketed up to breaking point._

_“I want to dance with you,” he said, teeth all a glitter with the heat of the car blazing up against them, working through like steam in Joker’s wet jacket._

_“Dance? Like at a club?”_

_“Yeah sort of. Let’s just go dancing.”_

 

 

 

 

_“Haha! Come on, Koki; it’s not like you need to know the steps for it; just sway and stop looking at your feet.”_

_And like most new things they did together, Long managed to irritate the hell out of him while they did it. A pretty small dive bar up in Ni-chome with a very Central American theme going; the music was all horns, tango, and Joker was_ only _looking at his feet because Long was too fucking tall. If he looked anywhere it’d be his chest. Long had him by the hand with another around his waist, and Joker felt like such an idiot._

_“Ko~ki!” Junno was saying under the music, trying to duck his head, but Joker remained stiff and steadfast, glaring at their shoes sliding back and forth on the wood floor._

_It was a quick and sly move as the Mexican horn let out a particularly piercing note, Long spun Joker away from him, pushing him out with one hand still on his wrist._

_“WAH!” Joker wailed without thinking, but he felt himself yanked back and Long was laughing as his arms came around Koki, holding him tight with his head over his shoulder. Warm and engulfing. And Koki glared at the other dancers who dared to look at them despite the fact that they were all male couples too._

_“Thanks, Koki… this is the most fun I’ve had in months.”_

_They gained a rhythm and though the music was in Spanish, Long tried to trip along with the words, murmuring a made up language on the spot, and Koki grimaced. Long’s voice was so much the same, as if he’d been singing all that time, like a frightening, strange chord right up against Joker’s throat. Five Years. And Joker hated how intently he processed those things so he could commit them to memory when Taguchi would disappear._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

Romes blinks at him. “So it was a slow dance?”

“Not really the point I was going for,” he groans, and then swallows, running his fingers in his hair fretfully. “I don’t know what’s what anymore…that asshole has done things to me, to my head.”

Romeo goes quiet so Joker glances up at him hesitantly. For the first time today, Romes looks serious. “Listen, Joker. I’m going to tell you something about our Long Johnny.”

Joker nods warily.

“Back when you had to disappear for a three year sentence and your younger brothers were still in Tokyo, who do you think went looking for them? Who do you think took care of them, kept them out of trouble, huh?” Romeo folds his arms, looking at him with deep meaning.

Joker pauses, caught in that thought.

“Because it wasn’t me, and you know it wasn’t Ru and we’re both the only friends you’ve got. _It was Taguchi_. He’s always got your back and he’s the first to defend you when it comes to your little thing with Kame—“

“Wait, what?”

Romeo chews his lip, staring at Joker with some temerity. “That thing with Kame you had going on. Even if Nino hadn’t told us, I’d have known. Cameras aside, if there’s sex happening in that backroom of our building, then I’m gonna know about it.”

Mortification doesn’t cover it. It really doesn’t. “Why does everyone know _everything_ and I’m sitting here like some kind of chump trying to keep you two out of it!”

Romeo frowns with distaste. “If that’s the secret you thought you were keeping from me, I’m going to want to cause you irreparable harm.”

Joker doesn’t reply, blinking owlishly at his hands.

“Well, whatever,” Romes continues, executing his default shrug. “Long is a fucking irritating assemblage of what defines a decent person. It’s just a bonus for your sorry ass that he even wants a piece. So, you know…” He leans back and waves his hand forward aristocratically. “Get some.”

 

 

 

 

  
_|_|_|_|_

  
The world seems to shut down when he’s here. Ru’s phone has about thirty missed calls, twenty of those from Sho, the rest from the juniors calling on Sho’s behalf. Lying sideways on the karaoke bar sofa, he shifts a bit upright trying not to upset Jin who is curled up with his guitar, strumming as he breathes shallowly, restlessly on as Ru scrolls through his numbers a little apathetically. It’s nearly three in the afternoon and if he doesn’t go back now, he’ll be held under suspicion. He wishes he cared a bit more; spending time with a dead man makes him wonder whether he’s just as dead.

He phone buzzes again and it’s Sho lighting up all polyphonic.

“Pick up,” Jin says, tone darker, medicated by memories.

Ru stretches, his hand that holds the phone moves to the end of the sofa for a slow, listless moment. Jin shifts, and his eyes are only half open, but he looks dead serious. Ru sighs and thinks the dead must be a lazy bunch. Jin takes the vibrating phone, curling it in his palm as if he’s going to crush it, fold the plastic and metals over in his hand. He doesn’t, though. He hands it back to Ru.

“Yeah. Pick up,” he orders.

Ru watches him and the buzzing wordless moment rings in front of them. From the kill last night, from the way they touch each other, from the steady, mindless way that Jin stares at him.

The phone buzzes once more and Jin hits speaker, laying it between them. “Sho?” Ru says, not looking away from Jin.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you since yesterday!” is the immediate reply. “You need to get down here; the juniors have given me a lead saying that Akanishi might still be alive, that he’s in hiding…I think he may have come in and stolen the fedora…”

Ru freezes inside and he searches Jin’s expression. Still the same as the first night he came in.

“I-I’ll be there.”

“Make it quick, please,” is the final order before Ru hits the end button. He stares down at the phone, still feeling caught in a dream. He can feel Jin’s gaze.

“I’ll lie to him…” Ru whispers. “I’ll tell him I found you dead, tell him…”

“You’ve changed into such a scary man, Nakamaru,” Jin replies, thin hand rising, running a single finger down the bridge of Ru’s nose. “I hear that’s what four years in jail can do to you, eat away at your soul. Are you pretending to be dead so no one notices your soul’s gone?”

Ru catches Jin’s sickly thin wrist. “I’ll take the fedora back and you stay here and I’ll come back for you, all right? We’re going to leave this place…we’re going to get you cleaned up and-and…”

Jin isn’t listening; he leans forward and brushes his rough cheek against Ru’s smooth jaw. “You ever wonder…why you went in. Why the jimusho’s info security didn’t protect you… why you had to take a fall.”

Ru shakes his head. He can’t be distracted now. “Don’t leave here; lock the door, and no one will find you. Just wait for—“

“No, Ru,” Jin replies and he leans away, laying his guitar to the side. “You and I are going to finish all this; we’ll do it together.”

Silence. He feels it like bile. “What do you mean?”

He gets up, pulling through his things. “Let’s take a trip up to Sho-papa. I’ll wear my best hat and when it’s nearly done… I want to tell you something, something very special.”

Ru watches him. “Jin…”

He reaches to the fedora, ever discarded on the floor. He sits it on his head, tilting it the way he did when they were young. The shadow over his eyes reminds Ru of something simpler. Even when Jin smiles right then, shyly, like he’s testing out something new, it just makes Ru shut his eyes, the burn of stage lights singeing him in memory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Can you even drive a semi?” Joker asks, looking at the huge vehicle with some trepidation.

Romeo hops onto the truck’s skirt as he flings the large door open. “Probably better than you can,” he quips comfortably, settling in the seat, his head barely coming over the dashboard. “And it just has to go in a straight line, doesn’t it…”

“Right…”

The plan is sketchy and it’s even more frightening that they don’t even know who they’re coming up against. Still, the idea is just to disable those holding the money, taking it and getting out before they’re seen.

An old mini pulls up with Long behind the wheel.

“You’re late!” Romes hollers, leaning from the semi’s huge window as Long steps out. “I said four on the nose!”

Joker is busy fiddling with his gun. He loaded it an hour ago, but he figures now that Long is here and smiling with those big eyes immediately resting on him, he should appear busy.

Romes watches Long step up beside Joker, his gaze searching and Joker’s eyebrows curl downward stubbornly as he pretends to reload his gun. Romeo shakes his head, turning the key so the engine guns to life. The entire front of it creates a thrilling hum like he’s sitting on an amp the moment he slides a pick across the first string of his Jackson V. He’s always figured it’s supposed to be sex, boxing, and rock, but Romes is already revising it in his head to include a lit and decorated semi. That’d be cool. Ah, right…

“It’s four-twenty! Get in fucking position!” he hollers out the window and as promised a black SUV is about to pull out of the bank’s parking lot thirty yards away. He watches Long and Joker get in their car before he guns the engine, engages the airbrake and stomps his foot down on the clutch. It becomes unfortunate that he can no longer see, but he slides down in his seat and waits five seconds before he pushes it in gear and rams the gas.

He’s a hundred percent certain kamikaze’s feel this thrill and the crash alone sends him braced against the wheel but he holds steady as the truck’s front rams clear, a direct hit. He hears Joker shout and he realises he’s stopped. Dazed and still burning with adrenaline, Romes kicks his door open and climbs out, grabbing the arm-sized pliers. Joker is already at the overturned SUV, crowbar in hand as he rams the window open. As promised when Romes peaks in, there’s two shadows lying inside unconscious from the shock. Joker continues to slam the butt end of his crowbar and with a yell and a hard hit, the window shatters. “Cut it!” Joker shouts at him.

Romes jumps forward and climbs atop as Joker reaches in to grab one of the suitcases. The chain off the briefcase of cash, now handcuffed to the man lying inert comes off cleanly and Joker reaches in for the second bag. There’s movement and Romeo squints. _They’re not that big_ is all he has time to register as the blob of shadow inside darts forward and Joker hollers as he’s suddenly pulled in.

“Oh shit!” Romes hisses, scrambling forward to grab Joker by the shoulders as the man inside hauls him back, a dark arm wrapping him in a chokehold. There’s isn’t enough room to get his hold inside, but he rams his fist at the attacker, quite sure he’s hitting something but getting nowhere.

“MACE HIM!” Long is yelling from the car and Romes turns in time to catch Long’s throw. He looks down at a can of mace and he hauls one of the bags back by the handles. Long catches it and shoves it in the car.

Romes backtracks and finds the crowbar lying off to the side and he slides over the opposite window and smashes it open.

The other attacker, grappling from behind turns once the glass from the window is done spilling, looking at him sideways. It’s an instant and still moment of recognition. “Ueda?” he says.

There’s a lot of things Romeo’s experienced throughout his existence as an idol; some he’s loved and some he’s hated. Now, looking directly in the eyes of a sneering Nishikido Ryo, Romeo remembers one particular thing he hated most.

Nishikido’s nameless partner is trying to choke Joker and Romes points the can directly in the window, thumb pressed down on the valve. A series of yells rocket out of the sideways vehicle, but he sees Joker kicks his legs out and slide down, briefcase in hand.

“You got me too, you fucker!” Joker wails, arm pressed over his eyes.

No time for sorry’s, Romes grabs Joker and hauls him toward the car where Long is hopping around inexplicably worked up. “Get in and drive!” Romeo shouts as he shoves Joker in the passenger seat. Nishikido ‘s eyes are blazing—most likely from the mace-- as he jumps out of the side window, pulling with him what looks to be a CAR-15 Commando rifle. Romes doesn’t waste anymore time before he opens fire on them.

“Drive!” Romeo bellows, ducking below the seat.

Long pulls Joker down between the seats before he ducks his own head. He guns the mini forward and single-handedly spins the wheel, just missing the flash fire assault.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” Joker is muttering from the front seat beside Long.

“Was that Ryo-chan?” Long finally gasps when they make a sizeable distance into the backstreets.

Romeo nods soundlessly.

Joker moans, head pushed into the armrest by Long’s palm. Romes is just about to tell him to let Joker breathe when there’s a zinging sound and a huge thump. A foot kicks in the driver’s window and Long veers sideways.

“Did you drive in a circle?!” Romes demands, caught up in incredulity as he catches sight of Ryo running toward them as the car skids and Nishikido’s partner’s meaty fist reaches in. Long lets out a roar as he turns the wheel back, trying to shake the man off.

The resulting crash sends Romeo up against Long’s seat and Joker starts to grapple about against Long’s firm grip on him. It’s then that they hear it, the tearing noise that can only be metal as a large knife digs into the front of the car. Joker pulls Long and yells to the dazed Romeo. “There’s fucking two of them! We gotta split up and lose them.”

Romeo looks around stunned and catches a glimpse of Long blinking blood out of his eyes as he rolls sideways out of the wrecked car. He hears footsteps beating behind him, running and Romeo stumbles and kicks up his legs in a sprint as whoever is chasing him runs too. Confused, his senses beating his eyes glazed, he glances back and sees him. Nishikido Ryo tearing after him. Surreal as it is, he only runs faster. This persists for a _long_ , salty twenty minutes to which he races through traffic, people, his guts screaming as he makes it to the next set of buildings and he thinks he’s hit the residential alleys so after dodging over toward the boulevard of trees in front of a complex he ducks into an underground parking lot.

It’s only when he turns the pillar over that he realises his mistake. He’s cornered himself. Heaving, bangs wet, he turns to look at his pursuer.

“You…” Nishikido says as he stops at the entrance to the alleyway, teeth bared and sweltering with rage. He’s breathing like he’s about to go over.

Romeo gasps and then swallows, hands on his knees as he glares daggers. “I don’t even have the…fucking money.” He says, voicelessly. “Why are you chasing me?”

It’s a matter of fact query and the way the late afternoon sun doesn’t seem to reach the parking lot they stand in feeds Nishikido’s words with foreboding as he pulls out his knife. “You emptied a can of mace in my eyes, you’re trying to steal my best friend’s money…” He raises the weapon as he begins to staggers toward Romeo. “…and you give me the creeps… “

Romes is still panting, but he straightens as Ryo stalks toward him. “Fine, bring it, sweet cheeks,” he spits, raising his fists loosely, feet set apart.

Ten seconds race like a bullet. Ryo flips his knife handle so the blade points downward just as he’s swiping in a quicksilver flash. Romes jumps back when Ryo starts forward, bringing the knife up with skill, aiming to penetrate, but with a sharp second tailing him at speed, the backs of Romes knuckles crush just on the inside of Ryo’s arm. Ryo grunts, pulling back, knife dropping to the ground.

Romes fists rise once more as he dances back, eyes intent. “Only a douche bag brings a knife to a fistfight,” he remarks softly, chest still heaving.

Ryo glances at the knife on the ground. “Fine,” he says, tone low. “We’ll do it your way.”

Romes grins, starting in on his rhythm, balls of his feet rocking up and down, the veins in his arms tightening like cords. “You know my way ends with you making love to the concrete, right?”

Ryo glares, his own fists balling up. “I’m going to hit you so hard you’ll be chewing gravel last week!”

That’s actually pretty funny and Romes chuckles which Ryo interprets as a taunt. He roars as he lurches forward and this is just a million and one out of possible ways to get in and send him back into last Tuesday, but he’s feeling a bit cranky about being called “creepy” on any level so he steps aside, pivots, and watches passively as Ryo stumbles forward. He hits the wall with his shoulder.

They’re both far too exhausted and Romes can see it in Ryo’s eyes. Ryo uses the wall as momentum to try to pounce, and Romeo drops one fist, leans back and lands an open-palm smack clear across Nishikido’s stupid face. He goes down with an “oof!” and Romeo’s tired of looking at him. “Tell your husband I used his money to buy you a new pair of bitch panties,” he says wearily before backing up and jogging out of the parking lot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The meathead chasing Joker and Long manages to trail them up to the convenient store five blocks down before Long—one arm clutching the handles of the briefcase of cash—keeps a grasp on Joker by the arm the whole way, canters them down the road faster than an average anything. It’s only when they both jump the gate blocking the way to the street on the opposite end, does Long slow down.

They get to a set of dumpsters and Joker drops, head resting on his own briefcase.

“Koki?”

“My knees,” he groans. “My knees hurt.”

Laughter bubbles from Taguchi’s end. “We did it!” he cries, exultant. “We’ve got the money and you’re safe…”

Joker pushes himself up backward, leaning back against the rusty dumpster. “When I said split up earlier, I meant for you to go with Romeo,” he gasps out. There’s a stitch in his side and it’s too troublesome to move when Long drops in front of him, hands resting on his ankles.

“Romeo can take care of himself, but…”

“But what?” he snaps, and it comes out breathless.

Long is still smiling because he won something and Joker can’t quite remember when it became all right to just make assumptions. The kiss hurts because his lip is bleeding, but it’s laugh-flavoured and a full-strength acid trip, and even though he hasn’t the strength to raise him arms, Long’s fingers in his hair is the thing that mangles him.

“…but you’re mine.”

Black eyes have never been deeper. And Joker remembers to breathe again because Long’s phone rings. Exhausted, eyes burning, and lips now sore he shuts down and probably goes out like a light because what feels like a second later, Long is shaking him, gasping out words in bleary intervals.

“Uchi’s got me the info. The paperwork for the informer…the guy who’s been sending us to jail…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they were younger, back when the only thing really cool surrounding them were their senpais and Koki’s remembers there being a great many rappers he loved, _emulated_. Free-styling with Ru on cold performance nights when everything went quiet.

 

So while Junno stares at the paperwork and keeps muttering the pseudonym, “Nanashi Namae,” like the words are a rhyme, Joker knows they’ve got to find Romes and then get to Ru and fast.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s hot outside. Like burning through his skin, but it’s six in the evening and the sun isn’t shining and Jin thinks he might get a tan from phantom sun, which wheels him back around to ghost-like behaviour or whether there’s toast-coloured ghost running around.

God, but pretending to be dead can do some fucked up things to your philosophies. Well, so can the cocaine, but Jin has felt a gradient of vast improvement to his sensibilities because of both. Ru, for one, keeps reminding him.

It’s _hot_.

“Steady there, Jin,” Ru murmurs as they walk up to the big building that keeps Sho-papa. He’s got his hand and he squeezes as they enter the building. There’s something he was supposed to tell Ru, something about the tone, the _way_ Sho had sounded over the phone, something about Ru and how he shouldn’t actually ever leave Jin. He breathes deep and lets Ru pull him into the elevator.

“You scared?” he asks, and he asks it because he is, scared. Not really for himself, never. Something screaming has been bubbling inside his progress since the day he’d looked down at the swirling water boiling from underneath that boat. He’d timed it—final notes of his favourite song—let the water take him. That was fearlessness and he’s a hundred percent about what’s accomplished.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Ru says steadily as the elevator jolts and Ru stumbles a little awkwardly, but Jin is there to right him.

The office doors are already open and Sho is in front of his desk, arms folded, sober, but exhausted. He watches them walk forward, Jin a little ways behind Ru, shoots looks at the juniors as they stare at him, open-mouthed.

“I see,” Sho says, taking in the sight of them. “I protected you, Ru. I made you into something far surpassing the people you surrounded yourself with because you had the _potential_ And you allowed _him_ , this dead man to poison you.”

It’s beginning to strike Jin. Memory. The secrets. His head is reeling with thoughts and off-putting sensations and he hates when people stare. He tugs the fedora lower, shutting his eyes. Ru seems a little too warm for him just now. He remembers that dead people don’t need company.

Then he remembers he’s not dead.

“I’m sorry, Sho-san,” Ru mutters from in front of him. “I brought him here so you could see, but we’re leaving after this…”

“ _No_ ” Sho replies. “No, that’s not going to happen. I heard about everything. You went behind my back and helped out a couple of lowlifes because you seem to think that this company is the same as it was before. You took my money and threw it to them, and I know, I know about their thefts. You—“ he swallows, shaking with rage. “You think that information wouldn’t come back to me, but your friends who I tried to help, stole directly from my pocket and I am certain that, according to reports, they’ve gone and done it again. You are not going to walk out of here after you’ve betrayed me like this, after all I’ve…”

Jin shuffles backward, thinking, and Sho is doing something wrong, something incorrectly. That’s right. He’s…? That’s…Jin nearly jumps out his skin when a voice comes up from behind them.

“Sakurai-san, the men you sent us to get are here. They came on their own.”

Sho shoots one glance, just a single steady one at Jin, blame and the incorrect thing is on the tip of Jin’s tongue. Nameless…

Ru turns and his eyes widen. Jin turns too and bound, gagged and struggling is Koki, and Ueda, and even Taguchi. It’s a _gathering_.

Sho’s tone is deep, desperate and the way he looks at Ru makes Jin want to break things suddenly. “I am going to clean up your mess, Ru. This unrelenting mess you called a band, and you can come back, but I won’t _ever_ tolerate this sort of thing again.”

Ru looks between them and it’s no decision but something angry and feral wipes Jin’s mind slate clean and he could cross the room and…

His hands rest on Sho’s shoulders and Sho looks at him again, disgust and vibrancy joined as one. “Sho-papa,” he says smilingly and it’s clear like anything. “This is my welcome back gathering, isn’t it? I love a gathering…I wore my best hat and- and…”

“Jin!” Ru hisses, stepping forward.

“And you’re _such_ a filthy liar,” he states before he turns to look at his Nakamaru, all changed, lovely, and soulless. “Remember I was going to tell you something? Ru?”

Ru looks torn, helpless the way he’s looked the last few days since he wandered in on Jin’s karaoke house, gun pointed like he could shoot some life directly into Jin’s lungs and he breathes so much more when he’s there.

“I was going to tell you how Sakurai Sho-kun…your big rapper hero, the man you work for, is the very man who sent you to jail—“ The last word comes out breathless and unfinished because it’s a dark pain, lancing and he isn’t sure he felt it properly, but he recognises it. Yeah, fascination with guns all aside, he knows what a bullet feels like. It feels like the floor, carpet, pressed to his forehead once he sinks and clutches the wound.

They’re all yelling and Ru has jumped on Sho, pushing him back over his desk, prying the gun away from him and the juniors stare, shock and fear all reflected in Jin’s pooling blood.

It’s suddenly too cold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

All three of them—Ueda, Taguchi, and Koki—are able to break free in the resulting chaos and it’s Ueda who gathers Jin up, checking the wound on his leg, and then it’s Koki, biting his gag aside, that hollers. “He’s telling the truth! Check the papers in my pocket!”

Ru, now holding the gun, looks stern as he points it at anyone who looks ready to move in the room as he backs away from Sho. Koki, hands still bound, crawls forward as Ru reaches into his coat pocket and unearths a sheaf of folded papers. He points his gun once more around the room threateningly before he glares down at the print-covered pages.

Everything is still as Ru scans the pages. The look, something they’re all unfamiliar with, something no one in the room has ever seen cross Ru’s countenance, shifts the shade of the early evening. Like the room goes cold just then when Ru’s dark eyes slide from the page directly to Sho still half-lying back on his desk. “Nanashi Namae…I bet you thought that was pretty fucking clever, didn’t you?”

Sho stares at Ru and Jin leans back away from his wound, and Ueda helps to sit him upright.

Ru stalks across the room and there isn’t hesitation, the palm of his hand swipes downward, knocking Sho off the desk. He still doesn’t make a sound as Ru stands over him, lip curling. “I must’ve listened to your solo songs every day when I was still trying to make it in music. Nanashi namae--”

It’s Taguchi who makes a sound of outrage. “Nameless name?! That’s you…in English…”

“You taught me everything I needed to know about the law to get around it!” Ru shouts, flipping through the pages of details. “But becoming an informant was the thing I knew _never_ to do! And you stood there talking to me of betrayal! You, Sho, are a filthy bastard!”

He looks fierce and everyone in the room sort of shrinks back under Ru’s stare. “Each one you has had to face trial because of this man…”

Sho shifts, shaking so he can’t move or look Ru in the eye anymore. “I kept the company living! I held these factions together so you could all wander about free to do your dirty dealings if I gave up at least ten of you a year, then the rest of the company was _safe_!” Sho’s explanation is like a report of statistics, a speal of traits against society’s. Ru flings the pages down over Sho.

“You…were a good man and your causes were just, but you’re still a filthy bastard,” Ru mutters. “No one would follow you for anything anymore. And I’m leaving, with my _mess_ , with the company’s money, and if you so much as come at my people under any fucking name, I will come back here, and I will slap you again…before I put a bullet in your throat.”

When he turns around, it’s like the murder in him has vanished, leaving only a stinging remnant of the weary as his eyes rest on Jin, eyes barely open, lazy in the aftershock of the pain.

“Hospital,” Ru mumbles suddenly. “We need to get him…cleaned up.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is no Spring without a Winter, no life without death and the demise of Sakurai’s empire has breathed a new season into the very existence of what is known as Johnny’s Entertainment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_|_|_|_|_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_A Year Later..._ **

 

 

 

Their building, expanded, renovated and full to capacity—not with betting crowds, but with nearly every Johnny Rocker still around to tell their story—bears the affectionate name Rhodesia. Romeo had insisted on it since he was pretty adamant about not having to tell people that the club and business where he worked was called something as sleazy as “GIRLS”—Taguchi’s idea—and Joker thinks Romeo shouldn’t be accusing other people of being sleazy.

Of course there’s one Johnny Rocker they’re expecting to return and join them. Fourth of July seemed an appropriate date for this reunion.

“Wait ‘till you’ve seen him, guys,” Ru sighs smugly, a little tipsy. “He looks like he hasn’t aged a day over twenty four.”

“I’m sure, as his mother, Ru _would_ be pretty proud,” Romeo remarks quietly to Long who nods, all smiles.

“This is a big step for him too,” Ru continues to anyone who will listen. “First few days out of rehab…he’s even put on weight.”

Joker returns with a tray and passes a drink to Kazu and then as an afterthought to Yamapi sitting beside her. Yamapi doesn’t notice the bottle being pressed to his hand; he keeps staring at the door for their guest of honour.

Technically, they’re _all_ staring at the door and it’s beginning to kill their conversation despite Ru’s drunken outbursts of pride every few minutes. Inevitably, they do fall silent and Long opens his arms at Joker because he wants pda and Joker can swear they’ve _talked_ about this.

“Is there someone going to come in very soon?”

Joker turns at the question and freezes. Hair cut a bit shorter and face fuller, less gaunt and still smiling serenely, Jin looks down at Joker politely puzzled. They all turn, seeming to sense something wrong

Jin breaks out in a grin. “Is this my birthday?”

It’s possible about three different people sitting in their circle launch themselves at Jin, all arms, hugs, and sobbing embraces. Kazu is positively weeping, arms wrapped around Jin’s waist with Yamapi wrapped around him from behind and Ru slips in easily. The others watch this with some mild discomfort.

“Pi…” Jin begins hesitantly. “Your girlfriend is kinda up in my junk.”

Kazu raises herself up and looks at Jin, tears still streaming and there’s a slow, uneasy pause before Jin’s round mouth falls open, bright eyes widening. “Wha…?” he says.

Yamapi rubs Jin on the back, hard, steady eyes squinting with his own tears. “That’s my wife,” he manages, tone hoarse.

Jin’s lips quirk up as he gazes at Kazu. “Did they run out of women where you went?”

Kazu looks a bit less glad to see him, but it’s the same as before and Joker watches this with a little sifted sensation of no longer missing something.

“Now you’re all cleaned up, Jin. What are you going to do with yourself?” Ru asks finally, stern again as he straightens the lapels on Jin’s shirt as if its necessary.

Jin reaches out and pokes Ru right in the nose, eyes hooded. “You wanna watch yourself…because I’m gonna be just like you, Obamaru.”

They all watch Jin as he pulls himself out a Virginia slim, flipping his zippo out as he lights it silently.

“I’m gonna be a _real_ Johnny Rocker.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

art by [](http://sekky-chan.livejournal.com/profile)**[sekky_chan](http://sekky-chan.livejournal.com/)**


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